


Sunset on Asgard

by Anonymous



Series: The Steve Rogers Guide (And Associated Works) [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, Angst, Bondage, But he's also kind of a jerk?, Character Study, Dom/sub Undertones, Dubious Morality, Fake Character Death, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Lies, Loki (Marvel) Does What He Wants, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, M/M, Odin (Marvel)'s Bad Parenting, POV Loki (Marvel), Pietro Maximoff Feels, Pietro Maximoff is a Little Shit, Power Imbalance, Secrets, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:40:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23631754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: For as long as he could remember, Loki was told that he'd one day inherit his father's thriving slaving business and the fortune that came with it. Growing up, Loki assumed that his poor treatment in comparison to his brother was training so he could become the best version of himself, but the reality of the truth Odin hid from his sons was far less glamorous.A prequel the "The Steve Roger's Guide To Dealing With It" that explores the question of how Loki grew up to be such a villain, and how he came to acquire Pietro as his slave.
Relationships: Loki/Ian Boothby, Loki/Pietro Maximoff
Series: The Steve Rogers Guide (And Associated Works) [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1369093
Comments: 12
Kudos: 27
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a prequel to the Steve Rogers' Guide to Dealing With It, but can be read independently of it. Really though, why you want to? ;)  
>  I wanted to say a huge thank you to WhiteCeilings for helping me write and beta this story, and for allowing me to write an installment in the AU they created. When I read TSRG I felt inspired to explore the Loki character's backstory, and so this fic was born.  
> WhiteCeilings: This fic was really cool to help with! For anyone who's confused, I'm the original author of The Steve Roger's Guide, and she is the main author of this story, but I helped with betaing to make sure the fic was compliant with the rest of the series, so I do consider it canon in my series. Enjoy!
> 
> (Warning for child abuse... Odin is awful)

Purchasing the witty blond brat hadn’t been the first of his problems, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. He’d talked back when his old master told him to sit up straighter, and he’d spit at him when he tried to force him into place. Perhaps it was because Loki was excited to break in a slave, perhaps it was because the idea of taking him in to wipe clean was endlessly appealing, or perhaps it was for a different reason entirely that Loki had purchased a brand new slave wearing a brand new collar. He wore a new collar Loki had bought him simply because the slave looked entirely too pathetic in the old one that had been very much the wrong size.

That moment in time signified an end to a story that had begun years before, and a start to something new. Both of these stories had one thing in common: they both began with _Loki_.

_15 years earlier_

September 22, the end of the slaving season, was an incredibly exciting time, at least if you were a young boy awaiting your father to return home from his conquests in the city. Two such boys were crowded into the coat closet in the grand foyer of their manor ready to surprise their father when he arrived. Well, truly there were three boys crowded there, but only two of them counted.

“Move over!” One boy hissed, kicking the other two in the shin. “I don’t have any room!”

“Ow! Thor, that hurt,” another boy pouted, only to receive another kick in the other shin.

“Well move, Loki, and I won’t have to kick you, will I? I haven’t any room,” Thor complained, kicking twice more before declaring, “There, that’s better.”

“Maybe for you,” Loki muttered. “Why’d we all three have to come in here, anyway? Ian was in the middle of reading me a perfectly good book when you dragged us along.”

“Loki, all you care about are books!” Thor rolled his eyes. “This is fun! Waiting for father, pretending to be lost in a dark cave in the forest! It’s fun, isn’t it Ian?”

“Yes, Master Thor,” Ian agreed quickly. “Quite fun!”

“You always agree with Thor,” Loki muttered. “No matter what he says. I want to read my book!”

Thor slapped him repeatedly on the arm, practically jumping out of his boots with excitement. “Shut up, Loki, I hear him! On the count of three we jump out. One, two, three!” The boys tumbled from the closet in a mess of limbs, crumpling to the ground in front of a pair of thick, fine leather boots marred only by a small splotch of red. Thor gave a lopsided grin, and eagerly declared, “Surprise!”

“Boys,” the man sighed, moving to help his elder son stand up. “Thor, my son, I have missed you… But what is this foolishness? Loki, you have pulled the new slave into your tricks again?”

Loki was quick to shake his head. “No father. I-“

“No excuses, we have spoken of this before! How many times do I need to tell you not to play with the slaves?" Odin shook his head, then slipped off his shoes and shoved them vaguely at Ian, slipping on a pair of house slippers instead. "Take these to the washroom, perhaps they can still be salvaged.” 

Ian took them, bowing quickly before scampering away. Odin then turned his glare back onto Loki, his jaw tight. 

“Loki, what have I taught you about the slaves?” Odin asked sharply. Loki swallowed hard, licking his lips as his eyes flickered to Thor and then back to his father.

“That they’re dirty, vile creatures that shouldn’t be allowed time to stop working,” Loki muttered. 

“So why did you interrupt Ian’s work to play with him?” Odin demanded.

“I… Thor, he… I was being foolish, I’m sorry father,” Loki muttered, giving Thor a glare. The blonde bit his lip, shifted his weight, and then finally cleared his throat.

“Actually, father,” Thor sighed. “It’s my fault, really.”

“Hush, my son, let me finish with your brother. Now then, Loki, you realize I will need to punish Ian for going along with your schemes, but that doesn’t mean that I believe it purely as his fault. You will witness his punishment, and then it’s up to bed with no lunch and I don’t expect you to leave that room until tomorrow, is that clear?”

“Yes father,” Loki muttered, clasping his hands behind his back. 

“Now then, Thor, come along! Loki’s present shall have to wait now, but here is what I brought you from the city, a new sword to play with!” Odin grinned, holding it out to his son. It was a rather large sword, a little too heavy for most boys of Thor's age, but Thor was particularly strong and swung it about with ease and enthusiasm. 

“Did you sell lots of good slaves to get it?” Thor asked with wide eyes, and Odin chuckled.

“Business is good, yes. Here Thor, take these sweets and run along. Loki, come, it is time to teach both you and Ian a lesson. We have been too soft on that boy, haven’t we? It is time we give him his number somewhere where he won’t forget what he is.” 

Loki swallowed, licking his lip and gazing longingly after his brother as Thor bit into some kind of tart, though his attention was brought back to front as Ian stepped out of the wash room. He faltered for a moment when he spotted Odin standing there, clearly waiting for him, and the boy was quick to bow, murmuring, “Can I help you, sir?”

“Loki is going to give you your new mark now, come along,” Odin hummed, and both Ian and Loki paled slightly.

“Me, father?” Loki asked, gazing at Ian only a moment before he had to look away from the terror in those eyes. 

“Indeed.” Odin took Ian’s arm firmly and led him towards the vast backyard and the shed on the other side of the swimming pool, Loki trailing behind. “It's high time you learned. The trick is to put ownership marks where a slave cannot conceal them. As of late, masters have become lazy and soft, but the old ways were good enough for my father, and I see it as a shame that they are no longer followed. If you ever own a slave, I expect you to do far better than the rabble who march the streets of the city, pretending to know order. One day their slaves will rebel, or escape, mark my words. I expect more from your future.”

They were now in the shed, and Odin was poking at the fire he’d lit in the hearth. He absently grabbed an iron molded into a series of numbers and placed it in the fire to warm. Loki watched numbly, pretending not to notice Ian crying.

“Now then, choosing where to put the mark is an important decision, but my father had a particular preference for the cheek. Here, go on, don’t dawdle.”

The boy swallowed hard when the iron was shoved into his hand, the small series of numbers glowing orange. Back when Loki's father had been a kid, the numbers had meant something, and had been required to be worn by all slaves in one way or another. But now, different methods were used instead, and the numbers were empty. They served only as a warning: remember your place. 

It took all of Loki’s effort to keep his hand from shaking as Odin pulled hard at Ian’s hair and bared his face. The boy was crying harder now, whimpering and begging softly as Loki brought the heat close to his cheek. Even from a small distance, the heat of the iron made the boy’s skin red. Loki thought of their other slaves, of the ugly, scarred skin maring their cheek so that each time they passed by a mirror, it was all they could see. Such a mark served as a constant reminder of their place. Then Loki tried to imagine such a mark on Ian, and his hand threatened to tremble again. Perhaps he missed, or perhaps he didn’t, but Loki’s hand shifted and the iron landed squarely at Ian’s neck, just above his collarbone. Ian yowled, and Loki shoved the iron back into the sparking coals, his trembling hands finding a place in his pockets.

“I told you to mark the cheek,” Odin scowled, allowing Ian to crumple to the floor. 

“The neck is… is as good.” Loki’s lower lip trembled for a moment, and he pressed it down, refusing to show his worry. “He can’t hide it, not if you cut his hair short.”

“We're done here,” Odin replied sharply. “Go to your room.”

“Yes father,” Loki recited, glad to have an excuse to leave the grim, stuffy shed. He tried to forget Ian’s cries, and he tried to ignore his own hunger as the smell of warm bread baking lofted it's way upstairs, as if following him. In the end all he could do was remember to hold the pillow to his face as he silently sobbed, his body trembling so much that he worried he’d rip the pillow in two.

That evening, his mother snuck in to deliver several sweet rolls she’d baked that afternoon. It wasn’t much, but Loki knew that Odin had expressly commanded that he was to have no food, so his mother daring to bring him even this made him sniffle and hug her tightly.

“I’m sorry it isn’t more.” She told Loki, pressing a kiss to his temple before stepping away. “Goodnight, my little one. I’ll see you in the morning, my love.”

And though the gift was small, Loki knew to enjoy the small things in life, like savoring the sweet taste of rolls that only his mother could make.

Years passed, and both sons grew. Loki no longer cried when he disciplined a slave, and Thor no longer involved himself in foolish pranks. Thor learned that his future likely laid somewhere along the lines of guarding the province. His skills with weapons was legendary, and so Odin consented to allowing him to learn the trade of the guards, a noble if dangerous position. That left Odin’s inheritance of the slaving business open, and so Loki went about doing his best to ensure he would maintain control of the company after his father was gone.

It wasn’t that Loki was particularly interested in owning slaves, let alone selling them, but he supposed it was to be his lot in life. It was an honorable profession, to own such a reputable company as his father did, though it was hardly of interest to Loki. Loki far preferred to read magazines and sneak ingredients from the kitchens to make dinner for himself when he was sent to his room without any food. 

Still, his father had taught both sons the traditions and culture involved in this work, so Loki felt adequately capable of taking over the company. He was well versed in the rhetoric of selling to high paying clients, and incredibly experienced in the discipline involved in maintaining a slave. Still, as he sat in the library and peered over his magazine at his father and brother, his mind wandered to countless other things he’d rather do.

“Bring my coffee here, boy. Two teaspoons of sugar,” Thor hummed from over his newspaper. Ian, now a strapping young man who never failed to pretend to be eager to please, hurried forward, a large purple bruise on his cheek from where Thor had hit him yesterday. Loki curled his fingers into the silky paper of his magazine, refusing to lower it but equally refusing to avert his eyes from the spectacle. He watched Thor take the coffee from the tray, take a large sip, and then spit it nearly halfway across the carpet. Loki had to bite his cheeks from bursting out laughing.

Thor, meanwhile, was turning purple with rage, and he slammed the coffee tray from the slave’s arm, shouting, “What have you done to this coffee, you imbecile! You put salt in the coffee, you--”

Thor broke off, eyes narrowing at Loki, who simply raised his eyebrows and hummed. “Is something wrong, brother?”

“Is this another one of your little pranks? You switched the sugar and the salt again, didn’t you?” Thor demanded

“Who, me?” Loki smirked, catching the slave’s eyes. The young man’s face was quite stoic, but Loki knew he was amused.

Thor turned to Odin, who was still in his easy-chair, lounging like it was a throne. “Father!” Thor demanded, causing Odin to sigh and set his paper aside.

“Loki,” Odin tutted. “What am I going to do with you…”

“I certainly don’t know what you mean,” Loki shrugged. “Ah well, it’s unfortunate the coffee wasn’t to your liking. It’s supposed to be bad for your health anyway. I shall be preparing for tonight’s ball if you need me. Come, Ian, I think they’ll need a new tray of coffee.”

Thor spluttered, and Odin narrowed his eyes, but Loki sashayed from the room and winked at Ian when the young man made his way towards the kitchen. The slave tried not to smirk back at Loki, but failed miserably and Loki chuckled before making his way upstairs. 

The halls of the manor were lined with the scowling portraits of Loki’s ancestors, and he hurried past them to avoid dwelling on the fact it always felt that they were glaring at him in particular. His quick walk faltered as he neared the end of the hall, though, and he hesitated near the portrait of his mother. She was not scowling. Rather, even in an oil painting, Loki could see the playfulness in her eyes, the kindness in her smile. Her portrait rarely failed to make him pause and miss her, but today he tightened his jaw and propelled himself down the hall once again. 

Tonight was Thor’s coming of age party, and Loki was determined to make himself presentable. There would be all manner of business associates in attendance, presenting Loki with a prime opportunity to begin making connections which could help him when it came time to venture out on his own. Recently, Loki had been attempting to experiment with newer styles, despite his father’s dislike for the expensive, dark leathers. Tonight, however, Loki decided that he would choose something that he was sure his father would appreciate. He’d purchased a pair of old fashioned trousers, a shirt with a ruffled collar, and a velvety vest that he was certain his grandfather would be proud of. However, to complete the outfit, Loki had something in mind which he’d remembered spotting while playing as a child. 

In the past, it was tradition for those in power to adorn themselves with cloaks and capes of a variety of colors, and Loki remembered one such cape was folded into a box behind a trunk in the attic. Flicking on a switch absently, Loki made his way up the rickety old stairs, inhaling the musty, familiar air of his favorite place to hide when he was younger. He still recalled how he, Thor, and Ian would play hide and seek amongst the antiques. Then, when Thor got too old to be involved in such games, Loki and Ian would hide behind the armour on rainy days. Loki would steal a candle and listen to the pitter-patter of raindrops on the roof as Ian read him a book. 

It wasn’t appropriate, but after mother died Loki hadn’t particularly cared what was and wasn’t appropriate. Those had been difficult days. Odin has spent half the time raging around the house, breaking things, hitting slaves, and sending Loki to his room over anything he could think of, and the other half of his time in bed with various slave women who never lasted very long. Thor was good at looking the other way, while Loki frequently found ways to escape and talk back only when there was no one there to hear him. 

But even the worst days had some semblance of light, and Loki chuckled softly as he ran his fingers over the collectibles as he made his way through the attic. He saw his old rocking horse stuffed under the fur coat he used to curl up in on winter days. He spotted an old mannequin that had scared Ian half to death one October when Loki had decided to play a trick on him. He flinched when he bumped his mother’s music box, which played a few strained notes before falling silent.

“Master Loki, may I be of some service to you?”

Loki looked up, eyes flashing as he angrily blinked and snapped, “What are you doing up here? I thought you were getting Thor his coffee.”

“I… I already got it,” Ian swallowed, taking a step back. “I apologize, I’ll be downstairs.”

“No, wait,” Loki swallowed, pulling his gaze away again. “Perhaps you can help. I’m looking for that big chest, you know the one…”

“That you locked me in when we were children?” Ian hummed, and Loki flushed slightly.

“Yes, that one,” Loki cleared his throat. “It has a cape in it, a green one. It was my grandfather’s, and I’m going to wear it tonight.”

“Here it is,” Ian hummed from the other side of the attic, the soft thud of the lid falling back causing a puff of dust to fly into the air. Loki fanned it away with mild annoyance, grinning when he spotted the cloak scrunched into the corner. Absently, Loki gestured toward it and Ian was quick to pick it up and dust it off before holding it out to Loki.

“It’ll look splendid for the ball,” Ian declared, though Loki only shot him a light glare.

“You know better than to mindlessly flatter me like my brother,” Loki hummed, rubbing the material between his thumb and forefinger. “You haven’t even seen me in it, yet, how would you know?”

“Oh, of course, because you always look hideous in everything you put on,” Ian teased, and Loki chuckled softly, reaching over to pat Ian’s cheek before the other man waved his hand away.

“That’s more like it,” Loki grinned, fanning the cloak out and then tossing it around his shoulders, asking, “So? What do you think?”

“Do you want the real answer, or the Thor answer?” Ian leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms. “Never mind, because it doesn’t matter. It’s the same either way. You look stunning, and it’ll be even better when you have that other stuff on, though you might look a bit like you stepped out of a gothic novel.”

“That’s the idea,” Loki hummed, examining himself in a broken mirror. “If I look like all of our sneering, snobbish relatives how can father find fault?”

“That remains to be seen, doesn’t it?” Ian snorted softly. Loki glared, though it was without true malice, and Ian simply shrugged. Looking around, he asked, “Anything else I can do for you?”

“Depends,” Loki hummed, placing the cloak aside. “Is there anything else you’d like to do?”

Ian swallowed, eyes trailing up and down Loki’s form, and Loki chuckled softly, stepping over to the attic door and softly closing it. Raising his eyebrows, Loki turned back to Ian and again hummed, “Well? I don’t have all day.”

“I think…” Ian hesitated, studying Loki closely, but after a moment of consideration the young man nodded and licked his lips, purring, “I think I’d like to see you in your grandfather’s cloak. Just the cloak, nothing else.” 

Ian snatched it from where Loki had folded it and he stalked forward, tossing it at Loki’s middle. Loki fumbled to grab it, his breath catching in his throat as he raised his eyes to meet Ian’s and the other young man raised his eyebrows.

“Well?” Ian hummed, and Loki swallowed, eyes flickering between Ian and the cloak, before he chuckled softly.

“Well you are creative, aren’t you?” Loki hummed, beginning in on the buttons of his shirt. “Think you’re clever, do you?”

“I think you’re slow,” Ian replied. “I think you’re stalling.”

Loki rolled his eyes, tossing his pants aside as he clipped the golden clasp around his throat, the cloak ripping in waves around him.

“Well?” Loki hummed, tossing his hair. 

“You’re very pretty,” Ian hummed, one hand tracing lightly over where the cape touched Loki’s bare shoulder.

“Pretty? I’m gorgeous,” Loki quipped, and Ian chuckled, giving Loki a light shove back towards the wall, crowding him in.

“You’re arrogant, and spoiled,” Ian replied, his hands landing on the wall on either side of Loki. 

“Shut up and kiss me,” Loki reached for Ian, before the young man caught his wrist and clucked his tongue.

“Naughty, you aren’t giving the orders now, are you?” Ian hummed. “Although your idea has merit.”

Loki opened his mouth to retort, but his complaint melted into a soft moan as Ian’s mouth closed on his own, and his breaths began to come in short huffs. Loki closed his eyes and relished in this moment. It was wrong, and they both knew it was wrong, but this was just one of the many ways Loki found to rebel against his father. It was his way of being free, and if it allowed Ian freedom for a few moments as well, well that was just a happy coincidence.

"We don't have too long you know, we have to prepare for the ball," Loki pointed out through a soft moan, but Ian's finger on his lips silenced him, and so Loki fell quiet, savoring his time before he'd have to fall back into a role.

* * *

That night, Odin’s hired orchestra played some kind of waltz that really did sound like it came from a gothic novel. Loki swallowed down his anxieties as he pressed the wrinkles out of his vest.

“Come along, brother!” Thor squeezed his shoulder, knocking him gently towards the ballroom. “You look fine.”

“You would say that, you haven’t the slightest hint of knowledge about clothes,” Loki replied curtly. He caught his reflection in the mirror, tucking a hair into place, before he swept himself grandly into the ballroom. 

The thrum of people and energy left him slightly invigorated, if not nervous, and he pushed down a flush when he caught Ian’s eye from across the ballroom. The young man was serving cocktails, and Loki wondered absently why his father was so strict on everything relating to slaves from a supposed lack of trust, but trusted them to serve food and drink. Still, Loki absently grabbed a cocktail and made his way across the floor, his cloak billowing behind him.

“Hello, father,” Loki smiled once he approached Odin, who was drinking beside the fireplace. “How are you this evening?”

“I am proud to call my son a man,” Odin hummed, turning toward him. “Your brother has made me most proud…”

“Indeed, he is someone I strive to emulate,” Loki lied, sipping from his flute. “So, father… I quite like the vest that you chose.”

“Indeed? Hetalia helped me choose it,” Odin nodded. “She is not useful for very much now, but her cooking makes her worth keeping, and she does have your mother’s sense of style.”

“Indeed… I tried to use you as an example for the style I chose tonight,” Loki went on, flicking his hand at his cloak absently. “You, and grandfather.”

“Did you?” Odin hummed. “Yes, I thought something looked familiar… Ah, Mister Wilson, a pleasure you could join us tonight!”

Loki tried not to pout as his father’s old friend sauntered up, squeezing Odin’s arm familiarly and striking up conversation. Loki realized that his window to impress his father was all but gone, and he sighed as he surveyed the room for other potential opportunities. He thought he spotted one of his father’s business partners, but before he had the chance to wade through the people, a clap on his back caught him off guard, and he spun to see Mr. Wilson’s flamboyant son standing behind him.

“Loki!” Sam grinned, swirling his drink in one hand and squeezing the waist of a small, curly haired, blue eyed boy with his other arm. Compared to Loki’s old fashioned mode of dress, Sam looked like he was right out of one of Loki’s magazines. He wore a velvet blue dress coat with golden embroidery which Loki could nearly appreciate, if it didn’t make Sam look like he was ready to run off and lead a band in a parade. His hair trussed up and slicked back with all kinds of gel made him vaguely look like a French queen from another planet that Loki had read about. All in all, Loki could almost like it, but something about the combination of grandiosity with flamboyance grated on his nerves. Sam didn’t seem to notice, and instead grinned and declared, “Interesting party your father put on. Didn’t realize we were traveling back two hundred years tonight.”

“Hello,” Loki sniffed. “Actually that’s a bit of a stretch, two hundred years… Does your father know you’re dragging around Fisk’s new slave? I wonder, would he approve of such a thing, sleeping with someone else’s? Is Fisk here tonight, or did you come up with an excuse to bring him along? How much did it cost you? Hopefully not very much…”

Loki wrinkled his nose, adding, “Oh look, here comes your father. Oh dear, is that a frown on his face?”

“Hey, get lost for a while, will you kid?” Sam muttered for the boy at his side. “Meet me upstairs in a half hour.”

“Second room on the left,” Loki added. “It’s much better, after all it’s Thor’s.”

Loki ducked away before Mr. Wilson could inevitably begin lecturing Sam on reasons why he shouldn’t wander around kissing slaves, and he made his way towards one of Odin’s business partners to make useful small talk. 

The evening ended up being not particularly entertaining, nor useful, though Loki did manage to procure several business cards before Thor staggered up to him and nearly dropped his drink on Loki’s shoes.

“Hey there,” Thor grinned. “And how’s your night going?”

“Clearly much better than yours,” Loki wrinkled his nose. “Please don’t breathe on me, I’d like to keep my dinner down.”

“Yeah? Did you try the roast goose? It’s absolutely to die for!” Thor grinned, tossing his drink to the side where the glass shattered and a slave hurried to begin cleaning up the mess.

“Yes, I’m sure it is,” Loki hummed. “And I believe that you’ve had so much fun you should go have a treat. In fact, you deserve a good rest in your room.”

“Go to bed? But I’m having fun!” Thor grinned.

“Indeed, and now I can see you’re rather tired, aren’t you? Sleepy, perhaps? Oh dear, in fact it looks like you’re falling asleep as I’m talking to you… You, what’s your name? Never mind, can you bring my brother up to bed?” Loki asked the slave cleaning up the floor as she tossed the glass shavings away. She nodded quickly, helping Thor to balance, and Loki grinned, taking another small sip from his glass.

Over the next ten minutes, the party began to calm down. Without the guest of honor, people got the cue that it was time to begin saying goodbyes, however just as people were starting to file out, Thor came stumbling down the stairs, the slave girl at his side.

“We need a Doctor!” She called. “Someone’s been hurt!”

“And a slave is… is missing! Escaped,” Thor hiccuped, and for a moment a hush fell over the group, before everyone erupted in questions.

Loki paled three shades, looking up to meet Ian’s eyes, the other young man equally ashen.

“Thor, what are you talking about?” Odin demanded, reaching over to gently shake his son and hiss, “Pull yourself together, wake up and explain.”

Thor took the glass of ice water extended to him, and took a few gulps before steadying himself against the wall and declaring, “Upstairs, in my room, Sam Wilson was hit over the head. He needs a doctor. The window was open, and someone made a rope of my bedsheets.”

“I’ll see to him,” a woman declared. 

“We need a search team!” Another person called. “Come on, if you’re capable come with me! We’ll comb the area.”

“My fool son!” Mr. Wilson spat, smashing his glass against the tile floor, kicking at the slave who hurried to clean up the mess.

Loki stumbled back against the love seat, feeling somewhat numb, though his father’s hand on his shoulder startled him and made Loki sit up quickly.

“Go with the search team,” Odin commanded him. “Thor is too drunk, but I want at least one of my sons out there looking. Go on! Make me proud, my son.”

“Yes father,” Loki nodded quickly, slipping past Ian and out into the night. He pulled the cloak more tightly around himself, clenching his jaw against the breeze. He heard a few of the men shouting to each other, but Loki ignored them and moved silently and swiftly, searching the ground for tracks. He spotted Thor’s boots in the mud, from where he’d come out back to train, but then he found a smaller pair of footprints that started not far from a tree near the house. 

Loki cast a look at the others who were flicking on flashlights and spreading out, before he turned away and began to follow the trail.

The boy was moving quickly, but his trail was easy to follow. That was, at least, until Loki came across the stream in back of the house and the prints disappeared. Loki cursed softly, looking back and forth at the stream, before he realized quickly that the boy would have gone downstream to make himself quick against the current. 

Nearby, he heard a man shout, before declaring it was a false alarm, and Loki took off his cape before diving into the stream himself to allow the current to rush him towards the bridge. 

There were men everywhere now, even further downstream Loki saw that people were looking, and it gave Loki pause. The boy was likely hiding at his point. There would be nowhere to run in the open that he wouldn’t be immediately caught. 

Loki caught himself at the edge of the bridge, peering under it. Certain he wasn’t hiding there, but then Loki spotted a drainage pipe. It started out rather large before quickly narrowing as it disappeared into the hill. Narrowing his eyes, Loki waded over, flicked on his flashlight, and a grin that made even himself sick spread across his face.

“Found you,” he murmured.

The boy fought tooth and nail as Loki dragged him back to the party, screaming and putting up a huge fuss until Loki threw him to the ground at his father’s feet.

“He was hiding in a drainage pipe,” Loki stated. “Only got as far as the bridge.”

“Please sir, I’m sorry, I won’t do it again, I swear!” The boy was whimpering, curled into a ball and sobbing on Odin’s boots. The man simply kicked the boy away, ignoring his pleads to turn his eyes onto Loki.

“Very good, my son,” Odin hummed softly. “You have made me proud this night. It was through your cunning that this slave has been brought back.”

“Indeed,” a new voice echoed through the room. “You should be proud of your son, he shows great promise.”

The crowd parted ways as Mr. Fisk strode into the room. All went silent, except for the boy who continued to sob and plead. Fisk simply clucked his tongue, turning the boy over with the toe of his boot.

“What a waste,” he spat softly. “And I paid good money for you, too.”

It was over before Loki knew what had happened. One moment the boy was sobbing and pleading, and the next there was a loud bang and then a puddle of blood began seeping onto the tiles. Loki caught himself before he could show any clear signs of shock, but he was fairly sure that he’d paled three shades, and when he looked up he met Sam’s eyes, and saw that same shock resting there.

“You shed pride on this family, my son,” Odin murmured, grasping Loki’s shoulder. “I do believe there is hope for you yet.”

That night, Loki sat silent in bed. He thought of the curly-haired boy, of his wide eyes in the drainage pipe, of his soft pleading as Loki had taken him home. He thought of all the punishment he’d seen his father carry out and of all the scenarios he thought might play out this night. He thought of the slaves trussed up and waiting for their fates at his father’s store, and of the women his father brought home who typically were in the house for a month or less before they disappeared. He thought of all the slaves he’d seen in the city, in his family-friends’ homes, in the fields and in the cities. And he thought of the boy’s blank face after Frisk had shot him.

Loki thought he would cry for a moment, but he didn’t. He just sat, and he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this first chapter! I have the first section of this story completed, but I'm still deciding how and if I will continue, so please let me know what you think! If you've read the SRG, feel free to offer me ideas or characters you might be interested in seeing, and I'll see if there's any way for me to incorporate that in here.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT: Okay so if you read the last chapter earlier, please go check it again. I regretted where I cut off the chapter and added a whole scene to it since it fit better there rather than at the beginning of this chapter. That said, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Two months later, it was time for Thor to take his place as a guard of the province, and seeing his brother taking his place in the world further inspired Loki to step up and ask his father about the company. Initially, Odin seemed unenthusiastic about sharing information, and it wasn’t until a year had passed that Odin finally backed down and agreed to allow Loki to accompany him on his next visit to the company headquarters. Loki believed it especially important to accompany his father now, seeing as Odin had been seeing his doctor more regularly and both his sons were concerned about why. When asked, though, Odin was quick to dismiss their concerns, declaring that he was as spry as when he was a young man.

It was a blisteringly hot summer day when Loki slipped into the backseat of the car beside his father, his back straight against the seat as the driver began down their long driveway. 

“Thank you for allowing me to join you, father,” Loki spoke as they pulled out onto the small highway closest to their home. “I think it best that I know how this business works. I have studied it intently, but reading the journals is different than actually involving oneself in the trade, I would expect.”

“Indeed,” Odin nodded, sparing his son a single glance.

“When I come of age will I receive a slave from your market?” Loki questioned, studying his father. “I know we keep only the best.”

“Perhaps,” Odin replied, no longer deigning to look at his son. “That is still some time away. We will discuss it then.”

“Yes father… You know it is only some months away now--”

“I said we will discuss it then,” Odin snapped, before he let out a soft gasp and clutched at his chest. Loki quickly leaned over to help, but Odin shooed him away, muttering, “Leave me be, Loki, I’m alright. You worry entirely too much over meaningless matters.”

“Father, your health means very much to Thor and I. If mother was here, she’d want us to care for you,” Loki replied, studying his father intently, but Odin simply glared.

“Well she isn’t here, is she?” Odin snapped. “She's dead. Now leave me be, boy!”

Loki tightened his jaw, clenching and unclenching his fists, before he turned away and glared intently out the window as the countryside changed into villages, and then the city. The houses here weren’t quite as large as Loki was accustomed to, but he appreciated their unique architecture. The people on the streets wore gaudish clothes, exposing and in all colors of the rainbow, and half of them led their slaves around on collars, like pets. Loki wasn’t sure why, but it turned his stomach just a bit. 

“People here are ridiculous,” Loki muttered. “So outlandish. Isn’t that right, father?”

“They are our clientele,” Odin replied simply. “Though they may be outlandish, you must pretend they are acceptable to make good sales.”

“Of course, I wasn’t implying otherwise,” Loki agreed, turning his gaze away from a shop selling lingerie. “I was simply stating my distaste for them.”

“Indeed,” Odin hummed, nodding once at his son. “Ah, we have arrived. Come.”

Inside his father’s business everything was pristine, and a pretty receptionist sat at the front desk.

“Good day, Master Odin,” she tipped her head forward in a sort of bow. Odin didn’t bother replying, and instead led Loki towards the elevator. It shot them up to the top floor and then opened up to Odin’s sparkling office floor. It had windows all around it, giving way to the most spectacular view that Loki had ever seen. It was like being in the sky, and Loki had to marvel at it for a moment before hurrying after his father as he made his way into an adjoined room where a group was sitting around a long table.

“Odin, good to see you,” a man down at one end stood up to shake Odin’s hand respectfully. He turned his eyes on Loki, raising his eyebrows as he asked, “You’ve brought your second son?”

“Indeed,” Odin’s tone was clipped. “He desired to see my work. Take a seat Loki. Now then, how are things?”

“Finances are very good,” a man near the head of the table spoke up. “Our clientele has been extremely pleased with the new choices of merchandise. Catering to the younger audience has a growing prestige here in the city as the social culture has continued to shift. By continuing to house our more… Illustrious merchandise on the traditional floor, and displaying the newer styles on the contemporary floor we’ve managed to maintain our core clientele while opening up interest from an entirely new audience.”

“And our shareholders? They don’t mind the shift,” Odin steepled his fingers.

“Quite, they have been eager to see our changes,” another man on the other end of the table spoke up. 

Loki listened on as the meeting progressed, watching each member of the committee take turns speaking about their matters in the company. They spoke as if they were talking about the time of day, not about the trade of people. It was all quite dignified, allproper, and yet Loki couldn’t help remembering that words like merchandise didn’t change what, or rather who, the merchandise was. All had spoken except one large man on the end, and Odin looked to him last, questioning, “And what of the sales floors, and behind the scenes? It is all well and good that our shareholders are happy, and our buyers are pleased for now, but has our shift damaged morale? We are taking in attractive merchandise, perhaps, but by buying from new lines instead of those breeded here, we risk disobedience, yes?”

“Well,” the man, hesitated, looking around the table, before he sighed and murmured, “Yes… There’s been some discord, it is true. The ones from Midgard? They aren’t always, uh, cooperative.”

“But you are able to remedy it, yes?” Odin frowned.

“Yes,” the man admitted. “Though, I must say, we’ve had to reconsider our protocols. We’ve been buying based on the new demands in appearance, but that occasionally means dipping into markets on the streets, or occasionally even taking from the training camps.”

“I see… And how long does it usually take to remedy bad behaviors?” Odin questioned.

“It seems to take longer than it used to,” the man admitted. “Especially some of the new ones.”

“Show me the training floors,” Odin replied, and Loki blinked in surprise as he stood, along with the other men at the table, and the man at the end nodded. Loki hadn’t realized they’d be doing any more than having a meeting, but he allowed himself to be led back to the elevator as the men talked, and Odin turned to him, murmuring, “This will be good for you, my son. It is important to not only concern yourself with overlooking the finances, but also overseeing what is happening on the floors.”

“Of course, father.” Loki nodded as if he wasn’t surprised in the least, though his stomach lurched slightly as they began their descent. They stopped four floors down, and the elevator opened to reveal another secretary typing rapidly. She smiled pleasantly as the group stepped out of the doors, and she raised her eyebrows.

“Good morning,” she chirped. “How can I help you?”

“Master Odin wishes to see the training floor. Call for the director of this floor, we’re going to do a tour,” one of the men instructed. She nodded, pressing a button on her desk, and within moments a large man stepped out of the door, giving a small bow. He wore a suit, and a grin on his face that was a little too perfect and set Loki’s teeth on edge.

“Good morning,” he purred. “Welcome. It’s a pleasure to have you today. You desire a tour? Right away, please, come in.”

The man held the door open to the right of the desk, and Odin and his associates filed in. For the first time, Loki wrinkled his nose at the conditions, and he stuck close to his father as they proceeded. These rooms, or rather cells, were small and cramped, housing one slave each in varying degrees of modesty. Not for the first time, Loki thanked whatever divine beings might be listening for the fact that he was not a slave, and that he would never be subjected to such squalor. 

“Here we have some who are nearly ready to transfer to the floors.” The man gestured to the slaves who gaze blankly at the group as they passed by, one or two pressing their hands to the glass. Loki rather felt like he was looking at zoo animals, and he’d never enjoyed visitings to such places as a child, so he kept his eyes forward.

“And these will soon be prepared,” the man went on, gesturing about. “While these have significantly more training to go through.”

“Indeed,” Odin hummed. “It seems your procedures are working… Tell me, have you had many failures?”

“Failures, sir?” the man asked. 

“Any merchandise that couldn’t be transferred to the floors,” Odin snapped, making the man nod quickly in understanding. For the first time, Loki almost sympathized with this man. It was never enjoyable to be on his father’s bad side.

“Well… Yes, but most of them would make poor slaves anyway, it is of no concern.”

“What of 616?” a man in Odin’s group asked. “He would appeal to the younger clientele, yes? Has he been able to be transferred to the floor yet?”

“I… no,” the man admitted slowly. “We’re working on it.”

“616?” Odin hummed, looking around.

“A transfer from Midgard,” the man explained. “Appearance-wise, our stockholders are quite excited. His attitude, however, is concerning. Our stockholders are urging us to transfer him to the floors now, but we don’t think him ready. He likes to, uh, bite.”

“I see,” Odin hummed. “But we should appease our stockholders, yes?”

“Yes,” the man agreed quickly. “I’m just unsure if it’s wise for him to be on the market just yet. I am simply considering our company's good reputation…”

“Of course,” Odin snapped. “So then it sounds as if you need to work faster. Let me see him.”

“See him? Now?” the man swallowed, and Odin narrowed his eyes, glaring.

“Yes, now,” he replied swiftly. “If he’s as popular as you say, I might as well see what we’re dealing with to find out if we can somehow expedite the process.”

The man swallowed, giving a single nod, before leading the group further down the hall to a small cell at the end. It took Loki a moment to find the occupant, but then he spotted someone curled up in a ball in the corner of the cell.

“Hey!” One of the men knocked on the glass. “Hey, get up.”

For a long moment, the body was absolutely still, and Loki almost wondered if he was already dead. Instead, however, the boy slowly sat up and then turned to face the window, and Loki felt himself still.

He had big, brown doe eyes that were red with emotion, and soft brown curls outlined his face. More remarkable, though, was how young a face he had and Loki realized the boy had to be a least a few years younger than himself. He glared silently at the group, his hatred nearly tangible, but when the handler pressed a button and the glass slowly lifted, the boy’s eyes widened in fear. He scrambled backwards into the farthest corner of his cell, his breath coming in small pants. Odin hummed softly.

“616, come forward,” the handler spoke, and though at first Loki was almost entirely sure the boy would refuse, a moment later he crept forward and then knelt in front of them, glaring up at the group. That was clearly not allowed, though, and the metal collar around the boy’s neck sizzled to life until he forced his gaze respectfully into his lap, glaring at his folded hands. 

“Does he have another name?” Odin murmured, leaning forward to run his hands through the boy’s soft curls, then taking a firm hold on the boy’s chin to tilt his head side to side.

“He said he’s called Peter on Midgard.” 

“Peter,” Odin hummed, lifting the boy’s chin. “Yes, he looks like a Peter… Open wide.”

“Sir,” one of the men murmured, but Odin held up a hand, and a long moment later Peter slowly opened his mouth, glaring up at Odin like a challenge. Odin paid little mind to his glare, moving to insert his fingers, but before he got far the boy’s teeth chomped down, and Odin pulled his fingers free just in time.

“I see,” he nodded, glaring down at Peter for a long moment, before backhanding him so hard the boy lost his balance, falling on his side. Loki found himself cringing as Peter looked up in shock, moving a hand to his stinging cheek.

“Come back and let’s try this again, shall we?” Odin hummed. “Come along Peter.”

“I don’t want to,” Peter glared, crossing his arms. “I’ll never do what you tell me, so why don’t you just give up? I won’t, just leave me alone. I want to go home.”

“He has a mouth on him, but that will be remedied," Odin said to the other men, then turned back to Peter, his voice growing stronger as he ordered, "Come here. Don't try my patience, boy, _now._ Come, and kneel.”

The handler’s fingers hovered near a small remote control, and Peter pulled himself to attention, stiffening in fear. Quickly, Peter made his way over, still glaring but willingly kneeling at Odin’s feet. The man sneered.

“Well, clearly he can be trained,” Odin spoke absently, stroking his hand through Peter’s hair and playing with the curls. “I can see why the investors are so interested in him, he’s excellent stock, though as you said he’ll need further discipline before going home with anyone. But you’ll be a good boy soon, won’t you? Won’t you?”

“Yes sir,” Peter muttered. It was clear to Loki that this was a trained response and neither Loki nor the boy himself was convinced.

Odin continued to pet Peter’s hair, rubbing gently at his scalp, and though Peter’s expression was still clearly upset, he slowly relaxed into the touch, sniffling as silent tears filled his eyes.

Crying, in front of all these men, in front of his tormentors… Loki’s lip curled back. It was truly pathetic, and the fact that these men seemed to get off on it made it only more so in Loki’s mind. By trying to fight back, the boy was inadvertently giving the men exactly what they wanted, and it made Loki sick. He supposed he should have felt sorry for the boy, but instead he felt his stomach twist with disgust.

He would never stoop to crying before a tormentor, and never had. Even when his father had hit him, or sent him away as a child younger than this boy, Loki remembered being silent and stalwart. He would never stoop to crying; never give the men the satisfaction.

“Does he please you?” Odin asked Loki suddenly. “Come here. Tell me, does he please you? He’s pretty, yes? I should think he would be very popular with masters around your age.”

“I suppose he is sort of... cute,” Loki agreed slowly, the words mostly a lie. Peter’s eyes locked on to Loki curiously, studying him. It made his tears slowly dissipate, since he had something to focus on, leaving behind just the redness, the puffiness. It was unsettling to have this small, crying creature stare him down like that, and Loki’s gaze hardened. 

“It’s rather unfortunate he keeps forgetting that he’s not to make eye contact, yes?” Loki spoke up once he could no longer stand the boy’s wandering eyes. 

The men seemed to just now notice, and they murmured in agreement, pressing the button on the remote that made Peter tense and shake before his eyes fell back fearfully to his lap. Loki wasn’t entirely sure why, but he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and he felt himself relax again. He stood more at ease and forced an easy smirk to come to his face as he hummed, “That’s better.”

“You’ll need to work faster,” Odin ordered the handler, pulling his hand from Peter’s hair. He proceeded to utterly ignore the boy as he added, “You’ll get a spectacular price for him, I’m sure, just intensify the obedience training. Drug him, lock him up, use whatever method you think best, but get him on the selling floor.”

“Yes, of course,” the handler nodded quickly. Odin raised his eyebrows, and the handler paled, questioning, “Now?”

“Yes, now,” Odin spat. “I came here for a tour, for a demonstration!”

“Of course,” the man nodded. He quickly slipped over to a panel in the wall, tapping a code which opened up a drawer. He reached in and then pulled out a needle, which he uncapped and then brought back to Peter. The boy’s eyes widened, but several of the men stepped forward to hold him down as the handler jabbed the needle into his arm. The boy fought valiantly for several moments, but his pupils quickly blew wide and as the men tossed the needle in a disposable container, the boy whimpered softly, tongue poking out to lick at his bottom lip.

“An aphrodisiac,” the handler explained. “I’ll come back in a few minutes once it’s settled in to begin his training.”

Loki watched as the glass slid back into place, and Peter stumbled back until he hit the back wall, gazing up at everyone with a dazed look in his eyes. Loki saw the boy shake himself, clasping his hands in front of him so tightly they turned white. His breathing grew heavy, eyes squeezed shut and Loki made himself look away.

It was disgusting and pathetic, Loki decided. Even drugged he would never give his captors any sort of satisfaction. He would fight much harder than this little waif. 

Loki’s stomach rebelled and he had to swallow hard to keep his breakfast down.

Later, on the car ride home, Loki was quiet for most of the journey, though Odin reached over to squeeze his son’s shoulder and ask, “So, what do you think of the business?”

“Oh, it does seem to run like a well oiled machine,” Loki nodded, pulling his gaze from the window. “Very, uh… Important to our society that the company maintains its current strong discipline and industriousness.”

“That is true,” Odin nodded. “And the boy? You see why someone would pay good money for him?”

“Oh yes, I’m sure I understand why others would pay a lot for him,” Loki agreed. Others might, perhaps, but Loki wouldn’t pay a penny. Loki wouldn’t take that boy home if he was free. Loki thought of the boy’s red, frightened eyes and he felt sick again, so he pushed a hand to his stomach and gazed intently at the window as the countryside rolled by. 

That afternoon, on the way home, Loki and his father stopped by the portal where Thor worked. It was one of several on the planet, though Thor typically guarded one over a forested area of Midgard. Loki had never been to the other planet, but Thor had told him stories of the strange food and customs they had there. Apparently, for the most part, they didn’t believe in slavery on their planet; Loki wondered what that must be like. 

Today, Thor broke into a wide grin when he spotted his brother and he laid his weapons down to give him a hug. The guard beside Thor peered over at Loki curiously, seemingly disappointed to be left out of whatever conversation the brothers would have.

“It’s grand to see you here!” Thor declared, clapping Loki on the back. “Are you thinking of visiting Midgard today?”

“No, father and I are just on our way home from the company headquarters. Father allowed me to accompany him and see how things work there,” Loki explained, peering behind Thor curiously. His brother laughed and started talking about something relating to the business, but Loki was too distracted by the portal to pay much attention. The building itself was rather unassuming, just a cabin at the end of a long road through the woods, but behind Thor and the other guard was a swirling mass of colors which proved indeed that this was one of the few ways onto Midgard. It was fascinating to Loki to imagine that simply stepping a little further, slipping into those colors, would place him on another planet. It was sort of a beautiful concept, a true escape. He could see why it cost so much to go through, why slaves were only allowed through if they were at their master’s side, or if they had clear permission to make the journey. It would be so easy to go down to Midgard and then just slip away.

“Thor,” Loki spoke a moment later, catching his brother in the middle of a sentence. Thor didn’t seem to care. “Have you had any visitors come through today? What were they like? I’ve never known anyone to go to Midgard besides you.”

“Oh, it’s been fairly quiet today, just a chef heading down to get some ingredients.” 

“I see. That doesn’t sound very exciting. Do you ever run into trouble?” Loki hummed, peering past Thor again.

“Not when we’re around, eh Thor?” The man beside his brother grinned, and Loki turned his attention to the man, raising his eyebrows. 

“And you are?” Loki asked, looking the man up and down.

“I am the protector of the realm, killer of filthy, rotten slave escapees... Call me Skurge,” the man grinned, shouldering his obnoxiously huge weapon. 

“Is that your name?” Loki hummed. “Or a disease? I can’t tell.”

“Loki,” Thor laughed, clapping his brother on the back. “My brother, what a joker.”

Skurge simply narrowed his eyes.

“My son,” Odin stepped into the room, holding out a box. “I expect a shipment from Midgard soon. Be prepared to pay the slavers in my name.”

“Yes father,” Thor bowed quickly. “I will.”

“What time will that be?” Skurge spoke up. “Because I have a date tonight, so I’m getting off early…”

“Early?” Odin blinked.

“Yeah, you know, with your son being so competent and all he can protect the realm on his own sometimes,” Skurge grinned. “But I just want to make sure I’m here when that shipment comes through.”

“Stay at your post and you’ll find out,” Odin replied sharply. “Come, Loki, we’re going home.”

Loki couldn’t help but chuckle, sending Skurge a look over his shoulder before slipping back into the car. 

That evening, after a silent dinner with his father, Loki stalked upstairs to undo the braids in his hair. He was nearly done when someone knocked on the door, and he looked up into the mirror to see Ian peering in through the crack in the door.

“It’s your bath night,” Ian spoke softly. “Would you like me to run it up for you?”

“Yes, thank you,” Loki nodded, turning his attention back to his hair. He growled softly in annoyance when he tugged at one clump of hair, which had someone managed to turn itself into a knot, and Ian chuckled softly as he came over to work at the knot, pressing a kiss to Loki’s neck. Loki didn’t react.

“You alright?” Ian asked, finishing with the braid and making his way into the bathroom where he began to run the hot water, dripping in some lavender oils. “You seem particularly quiet this evening.”

“I don’t need to explain myself to you,” Loki snapped, coming into the bathroom, and Ian chuckled, holding his hands up.

“Okay, enough said,” Ian chuckled again, standing. “You going to bathe like that? Your favorite shirt will be ruined.”

Loki sighed, silently moving to get undressed as Ian slipped into the adjoining room to gather towels. Loki finished with his clothes and he tossed them in the hamper before slipping into the water, his eyes fluttering closed as the warmth surrounded him. Ian was back a moment later, kneeling by the tub and gazing up at him, shaking his head.

“Something is wrong, though,” Ian spoke again a moment later, flicking some water at Loki. “You want to play, later? I know that usually helps you unwind.”

“It isn’t natural,” Loki snapped suddenly, his eyes flying open again. “You're… I should be the one giving you orders.”

“Well… I mean, alright.” Ian spoke slowly, his posture stiffening slightly. The boys spent a long moment staring at each other, neither quite sure of what to say, before Ian softly asked, “What happened today, when you visited your father’s business?”

“It doesn’t matter. The point is, it could soon be my business and… Well, you have to do certain things when you’re in charge of a business like that. There’s certain laws you can’t break, certain rules and limitations you have to set. You have to treat people a certain way, and slaves another. You have to… It no longer matters what you think, what matters is what's best for the business. I can't keep giving in to childish temptations.”

“You sound so sure, and yet it’s like you’re trying to convince me of something.” Ian grabbed a sponge and began washing Loki’s back, alternating between scrubbing and masaging. “Do you want to own this business?”

“Thor doesn’t want it, so it’s rightfully mine,” Loki stated simply. “Someone will need to continue it, it’s been in the family for generations. Besides, it feels... right. I’ve been preparing for it my whole life. As I’ve said, it’s nice to just… relax for a little while and allow you to take control so I don’t have to worry about things. It’s easier, and sometimes feels nicer and… and you like it, and I like it, but it’s silly.” 

Loki leaned back against the edge of the tub, relaxing his neck on his folded hands. He closed his eyes, remembering the last time he and Ian had shared his bed. The memory was still fresh, but after today the emotions around it felt slightly wrong. “It was a thing of the past, and now I’m over that phase and I’m ready to take control of the company. I’m ready to be a master, like my father always wanted. I’m ready to have power.”

“Again, it’s as if you’re trying to convince me of something.” Ian set the sponge aside in favor of trying to work the knots out of Loki’s tight muscles. “Something happened there to set you off. If you don’t want to talk about it, then fine, but don’t come crying to me later that I didn’t give you a chance.”

“Ian,” Loki spoke suddenly, cutting the other boy off. “You don’t… Pretend for me, do you? You pretend for father, and for Thor, but you don’t for me. Why? How did this happen? Or am I wrong. Perhaps you despise me and you’re always pretending. You’re a slave, you must despise us all. If it weren’t for us, you’d be free. You must hate all of us.”

“You’re wrong,” Ian murmured, moving so that he could see Loki’s face. He chuckled sadly, pushing Loki’s hair from his eyes and tugging at it until Loki shooed his hand away. “I do not like your father, and I do not like your brother, but would I tell you if I didn’t trust you? You’re right. People like me have nothing in this world. We can be killed in moments, simply because someone like you wishes it so. My place is like standing on a tightrope over a canyon, waiting for a strong wind. Your father, your brother, I’m on that tightrope when they’re around. With you, I don’t feel like that. It isn’t a matter of liking you; it's because I trust you.”

“But why?” Loki demanded, his chest tight with anxiety. “Why me?” 

“You’ve always been a trouble maker, you’ve always played tricks, but when the trick is over, it’s done. I know when you’re dangerous, and when you’re not. With your brother and your father I can’t tell. But I know you, and I have learned over years that I can trust you-”

“But you can’t!” Loki interrupted, his hands clenched into fists. “I’m no different than my brother, than my father! I could kill you, I could hurt you, I could sell you, and all of that is contingent on me liking you. I know all slaves lie and pretend to be happy. I know how all the slaves talk behind our backs and would kill us at the first moment’s chance. I know they’re just waiting for us to grow weak so that they can rise up and… and destroy everything that we have built!”

“Loki,” Ian sighed, reaching over to squeeze Loki’s arm in a bruising grip. “Stop. Do you not see how you’re being tonight? This isn’t like you.”

“It wasn’t, but maybe I’ve changed,” Loki looked away. “Maybe father was right, there is hope for me yet.”

“Hope for what?” Ian let Loki’s arm go. “To become paranoid, and bitter? Is that what you want? You’re too smart for that. These aren’t your words, they’re your fathers.”

“You don’t know how bad it is out there,” Loki whispered. “You’ve seen the other slaves at the parties, but you’ve never left this house. You don’t know how they’re treated. You don’t understand what I’ve seen. You don’t understand what I have to do. I have to do it.”

“I understand more than you think,” Ian sighed, sitting back on his haunches. Loki raised his eyebrows at him, and Ian gave a bitter laugh, shrugging. “It’s true. I wasn’t born here, you know. Your father picked me out from a group when I was small. I came from Midgard. I had a family there, two older brothers and a mum and dad. We were from Scotland. I still remember my house. It was a cottage near the sea that our family had lived in for more generations than I understood. I remember playing on the shore one day. I’d run off from my brothers who were meant to be caring for me. There was a man, he said he had a sea shell for me, and then I fell asleep, and then I woke up and I was in your father’s store. And I remember what it was like because I kept wishing I was home, and waking up in a cell. You think I don’t know what it’s like out there? I know perfectly well, because for months I grew up there, missing home, until I was brought here. But I got over it because it wasn’t so bad here, at least compared to the shop. I know I have it good, but that doesn’t mean I’m lying to you, Loki. If anyone asked me, I would tell them that you keep discipline, but you’re decent. That wouldn’t be a lie.”

Loki swallowed, the bathwater suddenly seeming cold, and he pulled his knees to his chest, murmuring, “Why have you never told me this?”

“Why would I? It doesn’t matter,” Ian shrugged. “I’m here now. This is my life. You can’t fight that. When you’re a slave here, you just deal with it. There’s no out, and anyone who thinks there is is just fooling themselves. But I wouldn’t need to leave, not so long as you’re here. I enjoy our time together. It’s like I’m a person for a little while.”

“But you’re not,” Loki caught his eyes. “You know that.”

Ian was silent, biting his lip.

“Ian, the bath has gone cold,” Loki sighed, standing up. “Fetch me a towel.”

“Yes sir,” Ian’s voice was surprisingly flat, and Loki felt a little numb as he wrapped the towel around himself. He still felt cold, so he brushed past Ian to snatch his robe. 

“Ian, I’d like a fire in the hearth,” Loki added, stepping into his slippers. 

“Yes sir,” Ian agreed, moving to carry out the order. Loki moved to his side, opening and closing his mouth twice before he spoke again.

“Ian,” Loki murmured, staring into the fire as the logs caught. “Do you ever wish that you weren’t a slave? That you were someone different, anyone?”

“Yes sir,” Ian whispered, and Loki pulled his robe a little tighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Ian :( I normally don’t write OCs, but I had a good time with his character, fitting him into this universe. (Technically I suppose he isn’t really an OC as I based him extremely loosely on the Intern from TDW who’s name is Ian) What do you think might be in store for Loki going forward? If you’ve read the SRG I’m curious to know your thoughts. I love reading your comments, each one brings a smile to my face.


	3. Chapter 3

Some weeks later, Thor came by to inform Odin and Loki that he was leaving for an excursion to Midgard to learn more about the people there. It seemed that shipments from the planet were increasing in number, and the guards were expected to understand the Midgardian way of thinking in order to be better prepared to guard against runaway slaves. Loki asked who would be guarding the portal and found out Skurge would be left in charge. Loki refrained from commenting what he thought of that decision. 

Odin was silent at dinner a few nights later, his mind seemingly elsewhere as he pushed some meat around on his plate. It wasn’t like him, so finally Loki cleared his throat and asked, “Father, is there something I can do for you?”

“No, Loki, I simply have no appetite tonight. I am feeling tired, I think I shall retire to my rooms,” Odin replied, pushing his chair back. “Dinner is finished. Take all this blasted food away, it’d be too much for an army.”

Loki peered down at his own half eaten meal, and he sighed softly as the slaves hurried forward to take away all the plates, Loki’s remaining food disappearing into the kitchen. It wasn’t unusual for him to be left with an empty belly at the end of a meal; it wasn’t so much that he minded it anymore, it was simply inconvenient when the hunger distracted him from his other activities. 

“I shall see you in the morning then, father,” Loki spoke again, studying him closely. “Are you certain you’re alright?”

“I’m fine, Loki,” Odin snapped, standing abruptly from the table. For a moment, Loki could have been almost convinced, but then his father nearly doubled over with a grunt, his fist clenched to his chest and Loki paled, dashing to his father’s side.

“Help!” He called, bringing two slaves running into the room. “Help, something is wrong with father!”

The slaves eyed each other before hurrying to the man’s side, helping support him as one murmured, “The stairs may be too much for him. We’ll take him to the guest room on the first floor. We should call for the doctor…”

“I’ll call, you just put him in bed,” Loki snapped quickly. “And be gentle about it!”

“Of course, Master Loki,” one agreed quickly, and they went about walking slowly with Odin towards the guest room as Loki dashed to the phone.

A moment later, Ian stepped out of the kitchen, eyes flying around before he moved to Loki’s side, asking, “What’s going on?”

Loki didn’t answer, but rather waited until the phone was picked up to explain the situation and demand the doctor hurry. He cursed, though, when the doctor stated that he was seeing a patient in the city, but would be there as quickly as he could. As Ian listened to Loki’s words, his eyes widened, and the moment Loki hung up Ian asked, “What can I do to help?

“Bring water, and father’s pills.” Loki replied, giving Ian a gentle shove as he added, “Now, hurry!” 

“Yes sir,” Ian nodded, dashing towards the stairs as Loki made his way to the guest room, his ears ringing and his own chest feeling slightly numb. His father was now tucked into bed, looking pale, and somehow incredibly small in the grand, four poster bed. Loki rushed to his side, moving to take his hand as he sat on his father’s bedside.

“I’ve called for the doctor,” Loki murmured. “Just hold on, alright? He’ll be on his way soon.”

“Your pills and water, sir,” Ian stepped into the room as the other slaves disappeared into the kitchen, likely to whisper about the situation. Loki took the items without a word, pressing a pill to his father’s lips and then tipping the water back for his father to swallow it down.

“Thank you, Ian,” Loki muttered, studying his father. “That will be all.”

“But-”

“I said that will be all,” Loki snapped, his face cold and pale, and Ian hesitated for a moment more before slowly retreating from the room. Loki immediately turned back to Odin, swallowing hard as he squeezed his hand again and murmured, “Father? Father, how do you feel?”

“I… I think it is my heart, after all,” Odin grunted softly, his hand trembling so much that the water nearly spilled. Loki quickly took it to set it aside, and Odin met his eyes once before demanding, “Where is Thor? I wish to see my son, now!”

“Father, Thor’s on Midgard, remember? He’s on that trip for work,” Loki whispered, swallowing down some emotion in his throat as he quickly added, “But I’m here, father, I will not leave your side.”

“I want my son,” Odin coughed, turning away when Loki tried to offer him water. “Bring me my son.”

“Father… I am here,” Loki murmured, trying to take a deep breath and blink away the tears forming at the edges of his eyes. “I will not leave you, I swear it. Thor can’t be here now, but I will not leave you, father.”

“I want my son,” Odin insisted again, and Loki shrugged helplessly. 

“Father, I… I am your son,” Loki whispered, and he flinched when Odin suddenly pulled away, glaring up at him. Loki was going to reach for his hand, but Odin’s next words made him freeze.

“You are no son of mine,” Odin spat softly, breaking into another coughing fit, and this time he took the water when Loki held it to his lips. Loki tried to keep his calm as he did, reminding himself that his father was merely confused. He took deep breaths in and out, forcing himself not to panic.

“Father, you… you are a little confused,” Loki murmured, finally placing the glass aside when Odin was done. “I am your son, Loki.”

“No,” Odin glared, his hand clenching tightly to his chest again. “I want my real son, Thor. You… you are nothing more than a slave… dressed up as a master.”

“I… what?” Loki blinked, looking between the water glass and the pills, wondering which he should offer, if any, but Odin reached to snatch his wrist, his grip surprisingly strong. 

“It is time you knew,” Odin spat softly, breaking into another dry cough. “Since it is likely I will not see tomorrow. In my closet, beneath the floorboard, there is a box. Fetch it for me.”

“Time I knew… father, please, you’ll be alright. The doctor is on his way, he’ll be here soon, father, and I will not leave you-”

“Fetch the damn box!” Odin interrupted, nearly looking ready to slap him, and Loki recoiled, nodding numbly. 

He looked between his father and the door, before he shouted for Ian. It took only moments for the slave to appear, bowing slightly and asking what they needed. Loki explained about the box, and Ian dashed away. Loki could hear his footsteps pounding up the stairs to his father’s room, and Loki stubbornly blinked as his father’s gaze became far away for a moment, before pulling back to meet Loki’s face.

“You aren’t a part of this family,” Odin murmured a moment later, his hands trembling in his lap. “You are not an Odinson.”

“Father, you’re confused,” Loki tried again, but was cut off by Odin’s stone-cold glare. 

“I have raised you as my own, and loved you as my own. At times I have even thought of you as my own, but you have never, and will never be an Odinson,” Odin murmured, pulling his hand from Loki’s grasp when Loki tried to hold it. “You have my blood running through your veins, but Frigga was not your mother.”

“I… What?” Loki paled, thinking of the beautiful woman who had raised him far more than his father ever had. “Father, Frigga is my mother. She raised me.”

“She did,” Odin agreed. “But you were not born from her. Your true mother was nothing more than a scullery maid. Pretty, but disposable. She was eliminated the morning of your birth.”

“What?” Loki whispered, nearly forgetting to offer his father water when he broke into coughing again. 

“Frigga, she had given birth,” Odin whispered, gazing at the empty bed beside him. “To a beautiful little boy. So small, so gentle… She made to nurse him, and raise him, but he would not eat. The doctor did not know what to do, and he died not a week later. She was devastated, and told she should not risk another child. But I was determined to give her one… I do not remember her name, your mother, but she had beautiful hair, and such a gentle way about her. She reminded me of our baby, with his sweet eyes, and so with her I had another son, you. She loved you, I think, if slaves feel that sort of emotion, and I almost regretted ending her life, and I did not tell my wife what became of the maid. I’m not certain she would have approved, but you could not truly be Frigga’s while the maid lived.”

“What is in the box?” Loki whispered, his own hand shaking so much, now that he had to set the water glass on the bedside table. 

“Your proof of ownership,” Odin gasped for a breath, his right hand clutching at the sheets. “It will be passed to Thor, now.”

“To Thor?” Loki whispered. “I… I am not a slave to be… to passed off to my  _ brother _ !”

“But you are,” Odin murmured. “He will take good care of you now that I am gone.”

“Does Thor know?” Loki whispered, eyes turning to Odin, searching for the truth.

“No,” his father shook his head, “He does not, but he will soon, when he comes. I did not expect this so soon, I always thought there would be more time. More time to explain, more time to prepare him...”

“So… So my whole life, everything you have ever told me, has been a lie?” Loki stared at his father, hoping for some sign it wasn't true. He received none.

“You are my son in blood,” Odin replied softly. “But you are right, I did not feel that I could trust you with all of the information. You are not a part of this family, truely, and as such will receive nothing when I die.”

“Couldn’t trust me?” Loki snapped, his mouth dry even as his tongue darted out to lick his lips. “You’re the one who lied to me!”

“Frigga always wanted you to think of her as your mother. She loved you as her own, and after she died I felt it wrong to tell you, in her memory. She would not have wanted you to fret, would not have wanted you to feel any different. But I can no longer care for you as my son, and since you cannot go out on your own, it is time you knew that you will now be transferred to Thor. It is true that you can never own a slave, will never own the company, but perhaps Thor will find some use for you. He has never been skilled in handling slaves, truly, but I believe you will provide an excellent first. You have seen first hand how a slave must behave, how they must be reprimanded and molded into what you most need. Although you have always been soft. I know that you would never have the stomach to truly discipline a slave. You are weak, it’s in your nature. You have slave blood running through your veins that makes you incapable, vulnerable. Yes, you will be a useful experience for my son.”

“Useful?” Loki sucked in a much needed breath. He felt light headed as he tried to process what he was being told. “He is my brother…”

“He is your master,” Odin replied simply, his tone so plain that he could have been discussing the weather, and Loki recoiled, his hand clenched in the sheet. Loki felt as though he should be trembling all over, and yet he knew he was as still as a rock. His mind was flying too quickly for him to process the thoughts rushing through it, and yet as he gazed down at his father, suddenly so small in a grand bed that looked too big for him, Loki’s sympathy for his father turned into fear, and then disgust, and then anger.

“He is not my  _ master _ ,” Loki spat, and truly the words felt like poison in his mouth. “He is my brother, and I will never fall before him like the filth you have taught me that slaves are. But you know, it all makes sense now, why you favored Thor all those years! You never treated me as your son. You say Frigga cared for me, and that I can believe, but you? You never treated me as you did Thor!”

“Thor is my son. You were not. Why would I treat you the same?” Odin coughed, his breaths becoming more labored. He reached for the water, but Loki’s eyes flashed in anger and he did not give it to him. 

Instead he stood, shaking all over, his voice dripping his anger, he spat, “You’re right, I was never your son.”

A sound at the door caught Loki’s attention, and he spun to see Ian standing there, the shock written clearly over his face. Before either boy had a moment to respond, though, footsteps hurried down the hall and then the doctor pushed in, running to Odin’s side, several slaves following behind him. Odin was coughing harder now, doubling over in pain. 

As the doctor dug through his medicine bag, Loki turned back to see Odin’s coughing beginning to weaken. His eyelids were fighting to stay open, and as the doctor slipped something under his tongue, Odin’s body began to fall limp.

The doctor was giving the slaves orders now, calling one over to give Odin breaths while another moved to snatch things from the medical bag. Loki moved to stand by the door, watching numbly as the life drained from the man he’d thought of as his father. Ian stood beside him, eyes still wide as he watched, and after a moment Loki snatched his arm, pulling him towards the hall.

“What are you doing? Are you not going to stay with him?” Ian hissed as Loki tugged him towards the kitchen. His hands were still clutching the box, and Loki yanked it from his hands, pushing him into the now empty kitchen.

“How much of that did you hear?” Loki demanded. When Ian was initially silent, Loki slapped him across the cheek, again demanding, “How much?”

“I… most of it,” Ian whispered. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to interrupt, and then I heard what he was telling you. These papers, they would give you to Thor. You would not be free. Loki, you’ve never been free… you’ve always been a slave, like me. Loki, do you know what this means? It means we wouldn’t have to hide anymore, not if Thor kept us both. Or he might sell us… God, what if he sold us? Oh God...”

The words sunk in, Ian's easy acceptance of the information that had ruined Loki's life, and the anger that had been welling up within him boiled over. Loki stared at the man he had cared for, the man he had trusted with what he  _ thought  _ was his darkest secret, and he wondered: could he trust him with this?

_ No. _

Thor would, perhaps. Sam Wilson would. But Loki wasn't either of them, and in that moment, his heart felt as hard as stone. He could trust Ian with some things, but not this. Never this. 

No one living could know. 

He thought all of this in a moment, Ian's eyes on him, wide with fear for what their future would look like. He needn't be afraid, because their future ended here. 

Loki watched him silently and then, before Ian could react, Loki grabbed a fire poker from the wood burning stove and hit him over the head, knocking Ian out cold. Loki couldn’t help but flinch as Ian hit the floor with a dull thud, and Loki almost dropped the fire poker before he realized that would make far too loud a noise, and so he set it gently back next to the stove. There was no clear, visible damage, but for a moment Loki panicked and moved to check for a pulse. To his great relief, there was a strong one thrumbing there under his fingertips, and Loki sighed, sitting Ian up against the wall. Loki knew that Ian’s head would bruise badly, but it didn’t seem to be swelling at the moment. 

Ian looked almost peaceful, leaning there against the wall, and Loki’s eyes darted to the door and then back to the slave. For years, he and Ian had played into fantasies where they could exchange power, where Loki could give up his rights while Ian took control, but now Loki felt slightly ill when he thought back on it. He’d wanted that with Ian, in a game, but the idea of that becoming his reality made his stomach roll. A sound from somewhere in the house, and frightened footsteps running through the house reminded Loki of the situation, and he was jarred back into the present with a gasp.

Ian was soundly unconscious, so Loki grabbed him under the arms and lugged him towards the pantry, laying him to rest inside and then locking the door. He could hear the doctor shouting commands from down the hall, and Loki wondered if he’d feel frightened, or saddened by his father’s death. He didn’t right now. Now he only felt numb.

A chill ran down his spine, and he snatched a match to light the wood burning stove. There was a little kindling there, and it caught quickly, casting shadows through the darkening room as dusk continued to fall. Swallowing hard, Loki turned to the box sitting on the floor, the one that might hold his future, and took a deep breath.

He didn’t want to believe it, didn’t want to believe that he had been lied to for so many years. It took all of his strength just to open it, and then his mouth went dry.

Indeed, inside the box, was a series of papers including his birth certificate, and a file folder with information about him. But there, on the top, was the paper that he had been dreading, that he had been praying wasn’t real. And yet, printed clearly in ink, was his proof of ownership to the Odin family, proof that he was in fact a slave.

Loki felt like throwing up his dinner, felt like running as far as he possibly could, felt like throwing himself into the fire just to let himself burn. But instead, with a muffled cry of anger, he shoved the whole damn box into the flame, his skin burning hot as the flames licked at it, before he finally withdrew his hand and watched the flames engulf the proof that he was not a free man. Perhaps he should have felt relieved, but he still just felt numb.

A few minutes later, Loki warmed his hands by the hearth, the papers curling like autumn leaves in the flames. He had only to wait for a few more minutes before the doctor entered the room and sat by Loki. He delivered the news gently, but swiftly. Odin was dead, his heart had failed him. 

“It wasn’t just his heart,” Loki whispered, blinking tears from his eyes. “It was the fault of one of our slaves. He forgot to give him his medicine this morning… My father is dead because of that slave, but that slave will be terminated. My father’s death will be avenged.”

The doctor offered only soft condolences, leaving Loki to mourn in solitude. He spent a long time in the kitchen, watching the flames, but when they finally burned down into embers he slipped back down the hall into his father’s room. A sheet had been pulled over his head, and two slaves remained, the younger one crying softly because he feared he would now be sold to new masters. Loki didn’t doubt it.

“You, Muninn,” Loki spoke, pointing to his father’s oldest hand servant. “I expect you to care for the manor for a short while. I must make a journey to Midgard to tell Thor what has happened.”

“Yes, Master Loki,” Muninn bowed, and Loki stuffed his hands deep in his pocket as he slipped back into the kitchen. It was still blessedly empty, and so Loki searched around one of the bags that delivery boys brought met in. They were big bags, and Loki grabbed out and stuffed Ian into it. It was a tight fit, but Loki managed. He lugged the bag over his shoulder and slipped out the back door and into the car, laying the bag across the backseat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks again to WhiteCeilings. She had a new fic also about the Steve Roger’s Guide you should check out, it’s sort of an alternate ending. 
> 
> This chapter had some twists and turns for sure... what do you think will become of Ian, and where do you think Loki will go from here? I look forward to hearing your thoughts!


	4. Chapter 4

The drive to the portal felt longer than it ever had before, the events of the day and the knowledge of what he was about to do weighing heavily on him. The darkness of the woods didn't help, setting Loki’s nerves even more on edge than they already were. He periodically checked in his rear view mirror for movement behind him, for any signs of anyone else in the road, but there were none. No one was following him, looking for the slave that escaped. No one knew.

When Loki pulled up to the portal, he saw that only one other person was parked there: the idiot Skurge. Just as he'd expected.

Loki adjusted his rearview mirror to fix his hair, putting all of years of pretending for Odin to use in making himself presentable. If he did it right, no one would have to know about the buzzing in his head, the emptiness in his heart. He slipped out of the car, and stalked towards the portal.

Inside, Skurge stood alone, polishing his obnoxious battleax. He looked up in surprise as Loki swept into the cabin, seemingly surprised to see someone at this hour. Loki forced himself not to glare, and instead gave Skurge an even, level look as he announced, “I must travel to Midgard to see my brother. Something has happened.”

“Oh, uh, of course! What happened?” Loki sniffed indignantly, declaring, “I do not need to explain myself to you. However, if you must know, it is my father. A slave forgot to give father his medicine this morning, and he died tonight. I have to tell Thor what has happened."

“Oh.” Skurge blinked, seeming unsure of what to say for a long moment before adding, “Well… Indeed, that is horrible. I’m sorry.”

“Yes, well, I killed the slave and wish to dispose of the body on Midgard when I tell my brother the news. I have heard they have great bodies of water where I can dispose of it?” Loki glared at the portal, and Skurge nodded slowly, biting his lips together for a moment before quickly stopping.

“Yes, yeah they do,” Skurge nodded. “Man, that’s awful. And you lost your slave? That sucks… Oh man, I’m so sorry.”

Loki offered a half hearted chuckle as he looked away, hiding his dry eyes. Skurge patted him on the back, and Loki forced himself not to recoil.

“The body is in my car,” Loki sighed, turning away from Skurge. “Retrieve it for me while I collect myself."

“Oh but… Well technically I’m not supposed to leave this portal you know, man,” Skurge started, but then Loki gave him a particularly pathetic look that spurred him into action, and he reached over to pat Loki’s back, adding, “But just this once I can do it for you. For… for the brother of Thor, I can make an exception.”

“Oh, thank you,” Loki tried to keep his voice from dripping with any kind of annoyance or sarcasm. Skurge seemed to believe he was genuine, and squeezed Loki’s shoulder once more before hurrying out to the car. 

The moment he was out of the room, Loki hurried over to the map on the wall to view a map of Midgard. His eyes flew over it, memorizing locations, before falling upon the county he desired. Stepping back, he retreated to the middle of the floor as Skurge came back inside, dumping the body bag at Loki’s feet. Loki suppressed a wince, instead offering another pathetic look as he asked, “Do you know where my brother is?”

“Well, uh,” Skurge paled, his own eyes flying over to the map, and he swallowed hard before he decided, “They said they were going somewhere in, uh, in this place? Your-Oh-Pee?”

“Europe?” Loki raised his eyebrows, and Skurge quickly nodded.

“Yes yes, that one,” he agreed.

“Alright, and where exactly in Europe? I have heard it’s a fairly large land mass,” Loki crosses his arms. Panic flashed across Skurge’s face, and Loki gave an exasperated sigh, pointing seemingly randomly at the map and declaring, “How about there, on that little island? Can you manage that, at least? I like the look of it, perhaps it is a good place to start looking.”

“Oh, yeah, of course! I can do that. There’s a portal in the hills, there. You just come on back to that portal when you're ready to go home.” Skurge tried to act casual but Loki could see him breathing a sigh of relief at having pleased Loki. Loki handed him some coins and hoisted the body bag onto his shoulder, not letting himself hesitate at the familiar warmth he felt through it, and then stepped towards the portal. Before he could enter, Skurge turned to give him one more shoulder squeeze, murmuring, “I’m sorry man, this is really rough, I know.”

“Indeed,” Loki replied softly, his grip on the bag tightened. “It is, for everyone.”

And with a blur of color, and a whoosh of wind, Loki found himself standing in another small cottage, and a man he didn’t recognize raised his eyebrows at him. Loki simply sniffed and held his head high as he stalked from the room, not deigning to provide him with any explanation.

As he made his way out of the cottage, he found himself on a rocky hillside overlooking the coast, and he began to hurry as he made his way down, out of sight of the cottage.

The journey was not short, but finally he arrived at a spot far enough away that he knew he wouldn’t be seen. From here he could see the lights of a small village just across a field of purple flowers. 

From somewhere in the village, Loki thought he heard children playing, and the familiar laughter of men after they’d had too much to drink. Out towards the sea, Loki heard the call of seabirds, and he saw a large, metal ship dotting the horizon. Overhead, the sky was turning dark as the last rays of color faded on the horizon, and for a moment Loki closed his eyes to soak in the smell of the flowers and the sea, to listen to the soft sounds of life. He felt something damp on his face, and he reached up to angrily wipe away a small droplet of water as it made to trail down his cheek. 

He forced himself into motion, allowing himself to waste no more time as he carefully set the bag on the ground. He unzipped it and rolled Ian's body out, taking care to have him land with his face to the sky, head pillowed by flowers. He left for only a moment to toss the bag over the side of the cliff, and then gazed down at the man he’d known since childhood. He had a nasty bruise on his forehead from the poker, and his breathing was shallow, eyes unmoving behind their closed lids. Loki glanced toward the village, trying to decide where to lay him, before spotting a road a little ways further down the hill. Loki tugged Ian toward it, laying him at the side where he would be easily seen by a passing car.

Loki knelt at his side, eyes tracing over his soft features, lightly freckled cheeks and brunette hair. He looked peaceful, as if sleeping, and when Loki pressed two fingers to his neck, he felt the reassuring thump of his pulse. 

“So this is Scotland,” Loki whispered, though he knew the boy couldn't hear. “I think I would’ve liked to have grown up here. I think, if I were taken from it, I would have missed it very much. Very much indeed."

He heard a noise, and he looked up to see headlights coming down the lane. He cast one more look at Ian, and though for a moment he was nearly tempted to press a kiss to his lips, he had little time, so instead he moved away, ducking behind an outcropping of rocks and waiting. It was fine that he didn't kiss him; the notion was childish and stupid anyway. Loki couldn't long for a goodbye when he was the one forcing them apart.

Loki watched as the car stopped and someone got out, shaking Ian and checking for breath. He left then, not allowing himself a moment longer. Ian was taken care of, no longer a threat to him. That was all that mattered; his emotions did not.

Loki slipped away back towards the cottage, feeling heavy inside, but not allowing his demeanor to crack. He wasn't done yet.

Inside the cabin a man stood guard, looking unsurprised at Loki's appearance. Loki put on the most frustrated glare he could manage and declared, “This is ridiculous! Skurge told me I could find my brother here! Thor, where is he?”

“Skurge told you that?” The man sighed. “Alright, well this is the wrong portal. You’re going to want the one into Russia.”

“Okay? So?”

“Right, yes, I’ll arrange that for you,” the man nodded quickly. He hesitated, though, and asked, “You had something with you before, earlier…”

“What makes you think you have the right to question the son of Odin?" Loki snapped. "Take me to my brother, now, before I make you regret doubting a man of noble blood." 

“Right, yes, of course, right away!” The man agreed quickly, leading Loki to a door. When Loki raised his eyebrows at him, the man quickly explained, “You’ll walk through this portal. Just keep going until you see the cedar door. That’ll be the one you want.”

“Excellent,” Loki nodded once. “I’m glad somebody around here is competent.”

And with that, Loki stepped through the door and began to make his way to the next portal, steeling himself to deliver the news to his brother, who he could already predict would be utterly devastated.

Loki was not wrong. He found his brother and several other soldiers sleeping in tents near the portal. Initially Thor was in good cheer to see Loki, but the moment he found out the news his expression turned dangerous, and he shook his head, taking a step away from his brother.

“That isn’t true,” Thor spat, his fists clenching at his side. “This is another one of your tricks. Our father cannot be dead.”

“I’m sorry Thor,” Loki sighed softly, his own anguish nearly palpable this time. He was not anguished at his father’s death, though, but rather at the denial flashing across his brother’s face.

“No, this is a trick!” Thor spat, shoving his younger brother nearly into a tree. Loki flinched at the harsh treatment, his arms flying up to protect himself against Thor’s anger, yet it did not come. Instead, as he slowly lowered his arms, he found Thor staring at him, tears forming in his eyes. 

“Brother?” Loki whispered, studying him closely, yet Thor simply gazed at him, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, before he took a strangled breath.

“You aren’t playing a game this time, are you?” Thor whispered, searching his brother’s face. Loki sighed softly, shaking his head, and Thor took several breaths in and out before he whispered, “And Ian… He really is dead, too?”

“I’m sorry,” Loki murmured. “I didn’t want to have to come and tell you while you were on your trip, but I thought it the right thing to do…”

“You’re right,” Thor murmured, gazing absently at the tree behind Loki’s back. “It was the right thing.”

The two stood in silence for a long moment, gazing at each other, and then Thor pulled his brother into a hug, grasping at his neck. Loki allowed it, secretly allowing himself to soak up the comfort, before his brother pulled away and took a deep, shaking breath.

“We must return home,” Thor murmured, looking away. “I’ll talk with my Captain. Just wait here, I’ll be right back.”

Loki nodded stiffly, watching Thor scamper away before he turned to gaze into the forest. He saw a patch of forest roses deeper in the forest, and for a moment he thought of his mother. She had loved roses, and Loki remembered one spring when Odin had brought her a bouquet of them. She had taken one rose from the bouquet and plucked the thorns off it, tucking it behind Loki’s ear.

“You’re my little rosebud,” she’d told him, bopping him on the nose. “Thorns on the outside, but beauty within.”

Loki clenched his jaw, pressed his eyes shut, and pretended that the single drop rolling down his cheek was rain, or perhaps a bit of dew dripped from the tree above him.

***

The manor felt quiet without Odin storming around, berating the slaves, and Loki felt an odd sort of feeling without Ian. He wondered if it was loneliness, and then he dismissed it as foolish. One couldn’t feel lonely about missing a slave. The thought made his stomach feel queasy, so he quickly turned his attention elsewhere.

Odin’s funeral was a grand occasion, but Loki stayed away from most of the guests. While his brother accepted condolences and even cried with some of his friends, Loki stood in the back and glared at anyone who drew near. It resulted in very few guests bothering to speak with him, though Sam Wilson gave him a get well soon card. Loki threw it in the fire. 

The Will Reading the next day was simple and clean cut. Everything went to Thor, and Loki got nothing. At first Thor didn’t believe it, and he had to stare at the document for several minutes before he could look up to meet Loki’s eyes. Loki simply shook his head and stated, “You always were his favorite, I’m not altogether very surprised.”

“But… nothing?” Thor murmured. “He gave you nothing…”

“I heard it,” Loki spat softly, glaring at his brother. “I am aware.”

“Loki, brother, anything you need, I will provide it,” Thor promised. 

“I’ll be fine on my own,” Loki muttered, crossing his arms. “In fact, I think I will be moving out.”

“Moving out?” Thor blinked in surprise. “But you run this manor. This is your home, is it not? Who will care for the family legacy?”

“I think father believed you would do that,” Loki snapped. “And I think you could do the decency of carrying through on the one thing father expected of you; to be an Odinson.”

“But I never wanted this manor, I never even wanted the company,” Thor murmured, staring down at the will in disbelief. 

“Well you have it now,” Loki snapped. “So unless you want to destroy everything father strived to maintain, I think you’d better start acting like an Odinson and appreciate what that truly means.”

“I don’t want the company,” Thor repeated softly. “I’m sure there’s someone else who could take it. Do you want it?”

“He didn’t give it to me,” Loki snapped. “He gave it to you!”

“Yes, I suppose he did, so I suppose I can do with it as I like,” Thor murmured. “You’re right, I need to keep our family manor. Too much history is here, I cannot give it up. I will leave my flat and move back home. But I’m happy being a guard, I don’t want the company… I suppose I shall sell it. Then I’ll have enough money to do renovations here. We’re in dire need for some…”

“Sell the company?” Loki whispered. 

“Well yes,” Thor nodded. “I don’t want it.”

Loki felt as though he was going to lose his lunch, but instead he stood up and stormed away. A few minutes later he found himself in the attic, curled up beneath his grandmother’s old fur coat.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to WhiteCeilings for helping on this story. Sorry I'm so slow to update, real life has been surprisingly busy so I got this chapter out when I had a spare moment. I hope you enjoy it!

The manor began to change, after that. In many ways, Thor was very much a traditionalist, but in others Loki found him to be careless and stupid. He did, in fact, sell the company, and he then used the money to begin restoring the manor into what he seemed to think was its former glory. He had a portrait done of Odin and hung it over the mantelpiece, and every time Loki walked by it he felt that he would vomit.

Two months later, Loki came of age. Thor begged Loki to have a grand celebration, but Loki declined him and instead came down the stairs that day with a suitcase and all the money he had been able to save.

He found Thor standing there with a birthday cake, and his brother nearly dropped it when he saw Loki’s luggage,

“What is this?” Thor asked, setting the cake aside. “What are you doing?”

“I’m leaving,” Loki held his chin high. “I’m going to the city.”

“You’re… leaving?” Thor blinked.

“Yes,” Loki nodded. “I am of age, and I’m going to go to the city,”

“But… But I had the slaves make you a birthday cake!” Thor protested. 

Loki blinked, replying, “I’m sure that’s very nice, I don’t have time to eat cake. If I’m to make it to the city by nightfall, I need to leave now. I already found somewhere to live for a few days before I find my own place and get settled. I don’t want to arrive late.”

“But Loki, this is your home,” Thor murmured.

“No,” Loki shook his head. “This is your home. It was given to you, it’s time you accept that responsibility. Frankly, it's time you accept  _ any _ responsibility. I’m leaving. I’ll write to you once I’m settled. I’m going to own a business, I think, and sell things in the marketplace. And I’m going to get a slave.”

“Do you have the money for all this?” Thor frowned.

“I’ll manage,” Loki replied. “I need to leave.”

He let out a sound of surprise when, suddenly, his brother rushed forward to pull him into a hug. Loki was stiff, but he allowed it.

“You know you’re welcome home here anytime,” Thor murmured. “I will miss you, brother.” 

“I… I will miss you too,” Loki replied slowly, and he was surprised when he realized that he meant it. He didn’t think he should miss his brother. His brother had everything Loki had ever believed he deserved and would receive, and Thor was throwing it away as if none of it meant anything at all. He’d sold the family company rather than honoring traditions, and he was changing the family home rather than becoming the stoic, honorable Lord of the Manor that Loki had groomed himself to be. And yet, alongside the jealousy that bloomed in his chest, there was a sort of a cold, emptiness there. 

Thor claimed to love him, but he would never know that Loki was nothing more than a slave, that Loki had run from the true legacy his father had decided for him the moment he slept with a slave girl. Thor would never know Loki’s true past, and if he did Loki somehow suspected that everything would crumble, everything would change. And so Loki kept it to himself, and he stepped away from the man who his father had wanted him to call master. 

“Here, for the road,” Thor spoke, cutting him a piece of cake. Loki peered at it dubiously, but finally accepted it. He allowed a slave to help him put his things in the car, and then bid his brother goodbye. He waited until he was around the bend in the road, out of sight of the house, before he pulled over and took a bite of the cake. He couldn’t help but admit that it was delicious. It was not as good as his mother’s cakes had been, but it was very good. He finished the whole thing in just a few moments' time, and then he continued on his way.

When he got to the house in the city where he’d be staying, Loki made a face. It was much smaller than his own manor, but the front yard was well trimmed and the house itself looked clean, so he swallowed down his preconceptions and snatched up his suitcase. Lugging it up the stairs, Loki arranged himself and then knocked twice, trying not to jump when the door immediately swung open.

There, in front of him, stood a woman whose skin was green. She was clearly not a Midgardian. In fact, Loki didn’t know who or what she was, but from the other room he heard Valkyrie call, “Well? Who is it?”

“I’m Loki. I wrote ahead, told Valkyrie I would be coming? Our fathers were friends?”

“Oh, you’re here,” Valkyrie stalked into the entry hall, a bottle in hand. She looked between him and the bottle, and then shrugged before taking a drink. “I wasn't expecting you."

“I did write ahead,” Loki replied, stepping inside when he was invited. He kept a firm hand on his luggage, peering around.

“Yeah, well I hardly bother to keep track of the days,” Valkyrie replied, leaning clumsily on the doorframe. “But you’re in luck, it’s party night. Sam’s coming over in a few with his slave.”

“Sam’s coming?” Loki questioned, crossing his arms across his chest almost self consciously before he stuffed them in his pockets and sighed in apparent annoyance.

“Yeah, think so. You've met, right? Your dads were chummy? Anyway, your room’s upstairs, second on the right. Put your stuff up there and get ready for dinner. It’s strange, I’ve only ever seen you at parties. I didn’t know you wore anything but suits… you almost look normal. Gamora, take his stuff will you?”

“I’m fine, thanks,” Loki held his suitcase tighter when she reached for it. Loki felt wrong, trusting someone he didn’t know with his things, and he hurried up the stairs and into his room. The moment he was inside, he slumped against the door, already feeling slightly exhausted from the social interactions. He didn’t want to stay here, and he didn’t want to deal with Sam trying to be his therapist. However, he supposed he’d rather be here than in Thor’s manor, and so he set about changing for dinner. He didn’t bother unpacking, because he didn’t plan to stay long enough for that, but he did refold his grandfather’s cape which he’d tucked into the suitcase. 

After he was dressed, he turned around to admire himself in the mirror. He supposed he did look a bit stuffy in his green vest and black overcoat, so he determined that one of his first purchases here in the city would be a good pair of leathers, the type he could never get away with at home. Odin was gone; no longer could he dictate how he lived his life. 

Loki's mood improved significantly at that thought, and he smiled as he admired himself in the mirror, turning this way and that and smoothing his hands over his figure. Tucking his pants a little higher over his stomach, Loki, nodded once before slicking back his hair and strolling into the hall.

He saw Gamora coming up the stairs just as he was heading towards them, and she froze, watching him carefully as she declared, “Master Wilson has just arrived. He’d like to see you.”

“Of course he would.” Loki sniffed, raising his chin in the air. “Very well.”

Gamora watched him for a moment more before making her way back down the stairs and then disappearing into a door he assumed was the kitchen. Loki made his own way downstairs and had only a moment to observe the room before Sam was on him, hugging him and then looping an arm around his shoulder.

“My friend!” He declared, giving Loki a gentle shake. “How are you? I haven’t seen you in a while. Happy Birthday! Come on, I got something for you. I know we’re supposed to wait until after cake, but I hate waiting.”

“Cake?” Loki repeated, unsure. 

“Yeah! You think we aren’t hosting a celebration for your birthday?” Sam laughed. “The minute I heard you were coming to stay at Val’s I knew we had to do something. I brought ice cream, too.”

“Oh.” Loki nodded stiffly, disconnecting himself from Sam. He was unsure of how to handle the apparent affection and friendship, and so he offered a strained smile and added, “That’s… considerate.”

“Hey, I remember when you were a kid and ran around playing tricks on everyone and now look at you!”

“Indeed.” Loki cringed at the mental picture, and swallowed hard as a little package was plopped into his hands. 

“Come on, you have to open it in here,” Sam called, making his way into the living room. “Quill’s already waiting for us! Have you met Quill? Come here, baby, say hello to Loki.”

Loki stepped into the modest living room only to be greeted by a man a little younger than Sam, looked up from where he was kneeling for a quick nod of greeting. Sam moved to his side, taking a pillow from the couch and tossing it on the ground for Quill to kneel on before taking a seat and patting the cushion next to him for Loki to take a seat. He began to card his hand through Quill’s hair absently, and Loki gingerly moved to sit next to Sam, unable to ignore the unpleasant look glued to Quill’s face.

“Well,” Sam gestured. “Open your present.”

Loki reluctantly did so, pulling back the paper and then popping the top of the box off to reveal a black and green collar. For a moment, Loki imagined it around his own neck and he thought he was going to be sick before he realized the intent of the present.

“For my first slave?” he guessed, and Sam grinned, nodding. 

“Of course! You’re of age now, you can get as many as you want!” Sam's smile wavered slightly as he took in Loki's expression. “What’s that look, aren’t you excited?”

“Certainly,” Loki agreed, slipping it back into its box. “I just expected to buy my own first collar. But this is a thoughtful gift. Thank you.”

Truthfully, Loki was somewhat relieved by the prospect that Sam was expecting Loki to acquire a slave, that he clearly had never considered the possibility that Loki would be prohibited from getting one. On the one hand, Loki didn’t want to rush himself and get a slave before he was ready, but on the other hand it only served to further inspire him to hurry to get a slave. After all, once he had one and could show what good control he had of that slave, surely no one would question his abilities. Surely no one would guess that he, Loki Odinson, could possibly be anything except an ideal master. His father had entertained the idea that Loki’s birth situation meant that he inherently would never be able to control slaves. Loki felt determined to prove that concept wrong.

“So, what did your brother get you?” Sam asked a moment later, examining his nails.

Loki blinked. Thor had just been gifted all of Odin's assets, the company, the house, the fortune. “He... gave me a piece of cake.”

“Ah, alright… Well, speaking of cake, I think it’s almost dinner! Hey, Quill, you want to go play with Gamora while I have dinner? We send them away at dinner sometimes so we can play the role of host or hostess. It’s really quite fun!” Sam ruffled Quill’s hair, and the young man plastered an entirely false smile on his face as he nodded and then got up to scamper away. 

“Pleasant, isn’t he.” Loki muttered with a grimace. Quill was like most of the slaves Loki had seen Sam with. He didn’t dote on Sam and act as if Sam was an idol to be worshiped. In some ways, Loki found himself appreciating it. In others, it left him feeling empty, seeing how eager the slave was to hurry away to the green girl. 

“I’m still working out his kinks,” Sam admitted. “But he’s great at sex. You can borrow him as a birthday present later if you want.”

“No thank you.” Loki shook his head, feeling mildly ill again, and he hurried to make his way into the dining room and try to forget about the offer. He probably shouldn’t have minded such a comment, but it was impossible to hear such a thing with imagining himself in the slave's place. 

He swore then, that if he ever got a slave, he would not force sex upon them. He’d had fun, playing the role of subjugation in the attic with Ian. It was all a game, a game he’d enjoyed, but the idea of it not being a game, of those feelings of powerlessness being real, left Loki feeling cold. No, it wasn’t the powerlessness that he’d hate, Loki realized suddenly. He’d have to discipline slaves, and leaving them feeling powerless was somewhat important. Loki suddenly realized that it was the feeling of powerlessness mixed with a confusing feeling of desire, and then hatred at one’s self for a desire that was unwanted. He would have to discipline his slave, Loki realized, but he felt sick with the idea of turning that discipline into anything the slave could wrongfully desire.

“So,” Valkyrie hummed over her glass of wine as they ate, “What’s your game plan, Lokes? You said you wanted to crash here for a few days, then what?”

Loki ignored the awful nickname in favor of answering the question. “I’m trying to acquire a business, and a place to live.” Loki replied, swirling his own wine in lazy circles. “I would like to own a restaurant, or a bakery. I’ve decided to put my mother’s recipes to work. The world is sadly lacking in food as good as my mother’s.”

“Hey, isn’t that bread factory for sale?” Sam asked, looking over to Valkyrie. “Over on the edge of town there’s this old place, decently big, that has all these huge machines. It was owned by some kind of crazy guy back a hundred years ago who used old practices or some shit to keep the machines running. I doubt anyone’s bought it, if you want to look into it.”

“Perhaps,” Loki murmured cautiously. “If it’s so old I suppose it would require a lot of renovation?”

“Dunno,” Sam shrugged, “Baking's not my thing.”

“Yeah, well for a while I thought working in general wasn’t your thing,” Valkyrie said, raising her eyebrows. “But you’re over that now?”

Sam crossed his arms. “Hey, I resent that. Sure, school was fun, but I’ve always wanted to help people and this seems like the best way.”

“I’m sure you’re very helpful to anyone who wants to listen,” Loki said, only half sarcastic. “And you, Valkyrie, what do you do again? Give people their money back when they kill their slaves?”

“Fuck you,” Valkyrie hummed, too used to Loki's mannerisms to be genuinely offended. “I’m not an insurance broker, you idiot. I work with risk management.”

“I see.” Loki replied, poking at his lobster. 

“So!” Sam cleared his throat awkwardly. “You think you’ll look into that factory?”

Loki hesitated, then nodded. It certainly couldn't hurt. “Yes, I think I might.”

“Go for it, man!” Sam grinned, reaching over to squeeze Loki’s shoulder. The younger man raised an eyebrow skeptically, but Sam only laughed adding, “I’m proud of you, going out on your own. Everyone assumed you’d just go into the family business, but it seems like you’re turning out to be quite the rebel.”

Loki swallowed a bit of lobster dryly, the food tasting like chalk as he replied, “So it would seem.”

That night, he borrowed Valkyrie's newspaper. He looked through the listings of buildings for sale until he found the bakery, contacting the agent before curling up to go to bed. 

He thought about his father’s business which now sat in the hands of someone unknown, and for a moment Loki felt incredibly disheartened. He imagined himself sitting at the desk, running the company as a proper businessman should, the executives bowing to his every whim. Then Loki imagined himself in one of those tiny rooms, curled up like the boy he’d seen so many months ago, waiting to be sold to someone who could do as they liked with him. The thought made him feel ill again, and he quickly pushed it away. That boy, though, had been truly pathetic, Loki remembered. Most of the slaves had been, but perhaps not more so than the handlers. Loki sneered of the thought of the handlers drugging the already helpless boy just so they could further debase him. Loki wouldn’t ever need drugs to beat a slave into shape; he knew he could manage with just his voice, his actions. If he'd been a handler at Odin's business, they would have never had to rely on such a thing. He wouldn’t have sold a slave who was cooperative only because they were high, either. The entire operation was altogether pathetic, and clearly it was ineffective if they had so many slaves still waiting to be transferred to the selling floor. Loki could've done so much better.

He would do so much better, he decided. His business, while being centered around the selling of food instead of slaves, would be so much more productive, Loki decided.  _ His _ business would be a well-oiled machine, much more effective and useful than anything his father ever could have created, crude and greedy as he was. The will may have screwed him over, but it didn't ruin him for good; Loki would show the world that he could run a company, train a slave, make something of himself. He could do it, and he would be better at it than Odin ever was. In fact, when he was done, he'd be the one in their family that people remembered, not Thor, and  _ not  _ Odin.

Loki sat up straighter on the easy chair he was lounging on. He knew he could do it, too. His brother had always been admired for his looks and amiability, and Sam had an easy charm which drew people like bees to honey, and while Loki was neither of those things, he was certain that he had the cunning to acquire just as many admirers. Perhaps people didn’t flock to him like sheep, but Loki had more than enough ideas of how to change that. He found himself almost smiling as he lounged there thinking about it. 

His father had treated him wrong for so many years, had called him weak and had lied to him, pretending he would give him a future when in truth, he never intended him to be anything more than his brother’s slave. But Odin was wrong. Loki would make something of himself, dammit, and then he would see. They'd all see.

Loki got ready for bed then, settling under the unfamiliar sheets. He felt the pangs of homesickness for just a moment before forcing the intolerable emotions away, reminding himself how eager he was to be making his own war in the world. 

Distantly, he wondered if Ian ever thought of Odin's Manor, and if he’d ever feel homesick for it. Maybe not, since to him it must have been more like a prison than a home, but at the same time he’d spent so many years there. 

Loki wondered if Ian would ever feel homesick for him.

He didn't regret sending Ian to Midgard. It had been completely necessary, non-negotiable-- no one in this realm could know the secret of his birth, not even he, who he'd trusted with so many secrets over the years. In his head, Loki knew he had no other choice, but his heart ached regardless. 

_ It will pass,  _ he reminded himself. The things he was feeling now were momentary at best, and would fade with time, an itch that evaporated once you stopped thinking about it. That was all Ian was; an itch, on the back of Loki's mind.

These thoughts and more swirled in Loki’s head for a majority of the night, pulling him away whenever it seemed sleep was within his grasp. When the morning sun rose, he had dark circles under his eyes and felt terribly intolerant from his lack of sleep. Still, he forced himself up, crossing his arms as he slipped into the dining room and found Gamora setting the table.

“Breakfast is almost ready,” she told him. “Valkyrie is having her morning coffee, but she’ll be out soon.”

“Valkyrie?” Loki blinked, raising his eyebrows. “Don’t you mean  _ Mistress _ Valkyrie?”

Gamora tightened her jaw, but she inclined her head, smiled bitterly, and murmured, “Of course. Can I get you anything?”

“Do you have tea here? I prefer to make my own,” Loki stepped past her into the kitchen. She pointed him to a cabinet near the sink where he found a tea tin and a kettle.

“So,” Loki spoke absently as he put the water on. “Do slaves frequently go off on their own into a different room during dinner here in the city? I noticed you and… What was his name? Quill, I believe. You were both quite eager to slip away last night.”

“Mistress Valkyrie enjoys entertaining guests independently sometimes,” Gamora replied, dishing up some eggs. 

“I see. Does she entertain Sam independently very much?” Loki asked, turning the stove higher.

“She entertains a lot of guests.” Gamora clearly held herself back from snapping, and Loki had to hide a grin. Either Gamora just hated him-- which was, of course, a real possibility-- or the girl was actually  _ attached _ to Valkyrie, and wished to keep secrets for her. The latter was actually rather intriguing; how scandalous, how droll.

“You seem very loyal,” he told her after a moment. “Or just very good at hiding secrets. Or both. Is my breakfast ready?”

“It is.” Gamora nodded, serving it onto a plate, though she seemed less than eager to take any further steps, but rather stood near him, and Loki raised his eyebrows at her.

“Do you have something to say?” He finally asked, a smirk playing on his lips as he poured his tea into a mug.

“I was just wondering how long you’re planning to stay with Mistress Valkyrie?” Gamora replied slowly, and Loki let out a soft chuckle.

“Oh, I’ll be going out on my own as soon as I possibly can,” Loki hummed. “I can assure you of that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please consider dropping a comment to let me know what you think! As of now I only have one more chapter written. Who knows, I might write more sometime, but for now I stopped after this next chapter. I hope you enjoyed!


	6. Chapter 6

Loki heard back about the bakery that afternoon. It was easy to arrange an appointment to visit it, considering his clear schedule. He found it at the edge of town, looming over the surrounding fields of crops. The factory was a moderately sized building from an earlier age and had a quaint house attached. The windows were dusty, but the stonework was appealing and Loki imagined that some renovation could certainly restore the bakery to its former glory. 

Loki knocked on the door twice, wrinkling his nose at the spiderwebs in the entry hall, and then a somewhat portly man with an unpleasantly conspicuous mustache pulled the door back with a loud creak. He was munching on a sandwich and had bits of mustard in his mustache, but when he saw Loki he quickly tossed it in the garbage and pulled the door open the rest of the way.

“Ah,” he grinned, his hands moving to grasp his wide suspenders. “Mr. Odinson, I presume?”

“Correct.” Loki held his head higher, straightening his back and looking at the man down his nose. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt as though the man was itching to cheat him of his money. Loki took note of it, but felt confident that he would never fall for cheap tricks. 

The man was apparently undeterred by Loki’s superior attitude, though, for he simply grinned wider and pulled the door open. “Do come in,” he practically purred, and Loki pushed off the unpleasant feeling of walking into the home of a psychopath as the man went on to declare, “The name’s Jim. I can assure you that everything is in working order, I wouldn’t sell anything less! This place has been in my family for generations, but I’m through with working so I bought a place out in the country to spend my retirement. This is the house, and the factory is in the attached building next door.”

“Will you be taking the furniture with you?” Loki inquired, trying not to sneer at the tattered old furniture. It had once been quite lovely, Loki could see, but the velvet was torn and faded with springs sticking out the bottom.

Jim faltered before replying, “Of course! If you wish me to. Actually it does come with the house, but I can dispose of it for you.”

“Don’t. I’ll keep it for now, just until I can bring in my own. I’d like to see your machines next to ensure they're still functional. I’ve also heard rumors that the methods used to run them are potentially… a bit archaic.”

“Oh yes, well grandfather had his way with inventions,” Jim said, leading Loki further into the house. “He, uh, he was very interested in his slaves and finding ways to keep them busy and in line. But I’m sure you can operate the machines however you see fit. Come, the factory is through here."

“I rarely run the machines myself, so we’ll need my slave to show you.” Jim told him as he led Loki through a new hallway, the mauve wallpaper ancient and peeling. Jim peered into several rooms that branched off the hallway before he yelled, "Pietro! Damnit, where is that boy?”

Jim sighed, annoyed in the same way he would be if calling for a dog. A soft sound was heard from the other room, and then an underfed young man strolled into the room wearing clothes that clearly were too loose. He walked as if he hadn’t a care in the world, despite the bulky collar that was fitted so tightly around his neck that Loki honestly didn’t see how he could breathe. The way he held himself made him look cocky and confident, and he smirked as he inquired, “You called?”

Loki watched as Jim turned red and spluttered as he demanded, “I’ve told you not to address your superiors without respect!””

Pietro rolled his eyes, taking a dramatic bow and with a pompous voice he replied, “Oh, right. You called m’lord?” 

Loki pushed down any kind of noise of amusement at the way Jim’s face turned red, and he stomped over to slap Pietro across the face. The blond boy swallowed tightly, but otherwise had little reaction other than to mutter something under his breath and glare at the ground.

Jim stepped away, clearing his throat and snapping his suspenders as he told Loki, “Sorry about that. Sometimes my slave forgets himself. He’s terribly stupid, but he’s decent with mechanics and so I’ve kept him around.”

“You mean between the two of us, only I’m smart enough to figure out the machines,” Pietro muttered, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe. Jim clenched his fists in anger, stalking over to grab Pietro by the hair.

“Come, you stupid boy, this nice man wants to see the factory,” Jim growled, shoving Pietro towards the large metal door at the end of the hall which Loki could only assume was the door into the factory. Pietro didn’t make any complaint as he pulled back the heavy door and then went about turning on switches and adjusting dials on the ancient equipment. The factory, as it turned out, was much better kept than the rest of the house. Everything appeared clean and well-maintained, and seemed to be in working order as Pietro demonstrated by turning on and loading the machines. The factory itself was clearly old, maybe decades so, but Loki could see that it got the job done quite effectively. 

As Pietro went about his demonstration, Jim told Loki, “My father bought that slave just before he died. I’ve had him since, but he is quite a bother. He hates sex and he’s utterly untrainable.”

“So I suppose you won’t be bringing him with you when you move, then?” Loki asked, watching Pietro turn on a giant mixing machine and pour in too much flour. Loki would certainly need to adjust the recipes once he had control of the factory.

Jim shrugged. “Well frankly he’s better than no slave at all. I’ll likely bring him with me.”

“Because you can’t afford to buy a new slave, you fat fucker.” Pietro muttered as the mixing bowl poured the dough onto a conveyor belt where it was cut into loaves and ferried towards the oven. Loki caught Pietro’s eyes, and the younger man had no qualms about meeting his gaze, watching him, and then looking away in his own time to continue working the machines. 

Curiously, there was something on first glance that Loki liked about Pietro. He enjoyed his grit, and his spirit. Though he imagined anyone would be frustrated with such an annoying slave, Loki felt an equal disdain for Jim and so he almost admired Pietro for giving him a hard time.

“It’s not bad.” Loki commented about the factory, nodding slowly and running his fingers over the machines curiously. He watched the curious moving parts of the mechanisms, exploring the length of the factory before he came to a set of stairs leading into the ground, and he pointed, asking, “What’s down here?”

“Oh, that’s the basement. There’s nothing particularly interesting down there, just some more of the mechanics.” Jim replied, making his way over to him. He placed a hand on his shoulder as if to steer him away, and Loki abruptly stepped away with a glare. 

“Show me.” Loki snapped. He looked Jim up and down, from his rather ugly pointed nose to his large physique before he tacked on, “If you’re up to it.”

“Of course I’m up to it,” Jim frowned, narrowing his eyes at Loki. Pietro snorted softly, muttering something about Jim not being able to see the steps beyond his belly and though Loki found the comment extremely inappropriate to say to one’s master, he couldn’t help but be slightly amused by it being at Jim’s expense, and he took another look at Pietro. He found Pietro looking back, and they caught and held each other’s gazes for a long moment. Loki felt the odd sensation that Pietro was getting a feel for him, deciding what he thought of him, and Loki stood up straighter, fixing his coat. Pietro smirked, refusing to give any kind of reaction to that, but rather he turned and began to follow Jim down the stairs.

Once they reached the bottom, he found that indeed there was nothing interesting save a few suspicious mechanisms attached to the mechanic equipment that seemed to run the assembly line. When Loki asked about them, Pietro stiffened and Jim’s smile became frozen on his face.

“Don’t you worry about those,” he said after a moment. “They were my grandfather’s. Electricity was new in his day, and he found it both effective to use on slaves, and equally useful for powering the machines. If you, uh, wish to find out more, then Pietro is fully able to demonstrate it, aren’t you? My father used these machines even in old age.”

Loki raised his eyebrows as Jim looped an arm over Pietro’s shoulders, giving him an affectionate shake. Pietro sneered, replying, “As if you even know how it works. I don’t think you ever worked hard enough to find out.”

Loki’s eyes widened in true shock when Jim suddenly shoved Pietro to the ground and gave him a swift kick in the stomach. Pietro curled up in a ball, coughing up and spitting something on Jim’s boot, softly growling, “I hate you.”

“Upstairs, now,” Jim spat, kicking at him again. “Go to your closet. That’s another night without food for you.”

Pietro glared before slinkling away, and Loki shifted uncomfortably as Jim turned his sinister smile back to Loki and apologized again.

“Does he go without dinner often?” Loki asked, watching Pietro ascend the stairs.

“Oh, all the time. I’ve tried everything, believe me. Starving him is one of the only ways you can get the damn thing to comply. Eventually he goes quiet and then he listens for a few days.”

Loki watched him disappear at the top of the steps. It wasn’t as if he could possibly feel sorry for the slave, such a thing wasn’t logical, yet it did seem a shame that such a spunky slave should be wasted on this buffoon of a man. Besides, any slave could be trained with the right persuasion. An idea began to bloom in Loki’s chest, and it brought a sly smile onto his face. His father had believed that he’d never be able to train even an easy slave, and Pietro was quite the opposite of docile. If Loki could get Pietro to behave, then what more proof would the world need of Loki’s abilities as a master? 

“You know, some slaves can be quite difficult," Loki started, voice sweet and sympathetic "I completely understand what a terrible struggle these past years must have been for you with a slave like that. I understand that you’re now going into retirement, and I wouldn’t want you to put yourself through a moment more of this hardship. Me, though, I’m young and I have both the time and the energy to punish such agressions. In fact, as a personal favor to you for selling me your family home, I would be willing to take Pietro off your hands, along with the factory.” Loki shrugged lightly, watching carefully for Jim’s reaction. 

“You want to take Pietro?” Jim clarified, raising his eyebrows. “He’s useless. You wouldn’t want him. Like I said, he kicks and screams and never listens. Only thing I can make him do is run these blasted machines. Even when I treat him well he disobeys and stays acting absolutely miserable. You wouldn’t want him.”

Loki shrugged as he replied, “I find him amusing.”

Jim crossed his arms, starting to get angry. “I’m not giving you my slave for free. I’ve already made this offer very affordable, haven't I, Mr. Odinson? I’m very happy you want the house and the factory! We can sign the paperwork at once. Pietro, though, is my slave and I can handle him well enough. ” Jim finished with a jerky sort of nod, as if putting his foot down, and Loki’s jaw clenched in frustration. Still, he kept a charismatic smile on his face as he spoke again.

“Oh, I didn’t say that it would be for free," he lied, knowing full well that had been what he was implying. He had to at least  _ try. _ "Of course I’ll provide you with the appropriate amount of money. I can’t imagine that he’s worth much, really, but perhaps this will cover it?” Loki pulled a few low-valued bills from his pocket, waving it quickly in Jim’s face before stuffing it away, and he watched with a smirk as Jim’s eyes widened.

He stared at Loki, as if trying to see if he was making a jest. When Loki stayed completely serious, though, Jim’s eyes lit up and a grin spread across his face. Moving quickly to shake Loki’s hand and breathe his unpleasant breath in Loki’s face, Jim declared, “Well alright then! It sounds like we have a deal. I’ll need Pietro to assist me with moving but as soon as I’m settled he’s all yours.”

“Then I’ll pay you the original sum now, and the rest when you return him.” Loki replied. "Now, where are these papers? I’m eager to move in.”

_ And move you out. _ Loki thought to himself, sneering behind Jim’s back when the man made his way upstairs again. Such a fine building deserved someone who would take proper care of it, and Loki intended to do just that. He would also take proper care of the slave who, although annoying, was treated abysmally. He would need proper discipline, but also proper care. One cannot achieve success by beating a problem to death. There was much finesse involved, and that was something Loki had always excelled at.

That afternoon Loki took some time to explore the town, and eventually he found himself curled up in a coffee shop across the street from his father’s old business. The building was still beautiful, a stunning old building towering over the town around it, but Loki simply sneered. It was a false beauty, a facade to cover shoddy business practices and greedy businessmen. Loki could have made it so much more, so much greater, and he ground his teeth as he finished his latte and swept past the building and back towards Valkyrie's home. He was displeased to find several unfamiliar cars in front, and when he knocked on the door, a man he didn’t recognize answered it.

“Hello?” The man raised an eyebrow skeptically. He was wearing a red cloak, which Loki simultaneously envied and loathed. “Can I help you?”

“Uh, I live here?” Loki coughed indignantly, crossing his arms. The man looked him up and down and Loki immediately felt judged by him. He huffed as the man stepped back to let him in, and Loki’s eyes narrowed when he heard loud laughter echoing from the parlour. 

“Hey Loki. Glad to see you could make it to the party!” Sam grinned, parading out of the parlour with Quill tucked by his side. The slave was dressed in what appeared to be Midgardian workout gear from some historical time when bright colors must have been in fashion. Loki found it quite distasteful, but Quill didn’t seem to altogether mind it. 

“I was unaware there was going to be a party.” Loki tightened his jaw, readjusting his coat. “Isn’t tomorrow a workday for you people?”

“So? It isn’t  _ that  _ kind of party. This is just a get together. Oh, and I see you met Strange! He's the best at trivia, I’m telling you! But I’m gonna crush him tonight.”

Strange scoffed, a playful smile flitting across his face as he grinned and declared, “I doubt that, Wilson, but there is a small chance, I suppose. So, you’re Loki? Interesting...”

“Come on in and introduce yourself!” Sam declared, looping his other arm around Loki’s shoulders. Loki shared a look with Quill before the slave raised his eyebrows and then quickly turned his gaze to the ground. The man looked like he could be fun to toy with, but Loki got the sense that Quill didn’t really want to make trouble for himself. Unless he gave Loki some kind of problem, Loki figured he would return the favor and leave Quill to his own devices. He didn’t find the slave particularly appealing, so he was more than happy to pretend he wasn’t there.

Inside the parlour, there was a hodgepodge of people who were mostly unfamiliar to Loki. He spotted Valkyrie and Gamora in a corner, the green woman reclined against the sofa casually. Strange moved to join a group of unfamiliar people at table playing cards. He was only one of two men at the table who didn’t have a slave fawning over them, the other being a middle aged man with a small mustache. Valkyrie grinned when she spotted Loki, waving him over and patting the sofa beside her.

“How’d it go?” she asked as he made himself comfortable. 

“Spectacularly. I’m moving in the moment I can,” Loki replied, gazing around himself somewhat dismally. 

Valkyrie chuckled, poking his side and asking, “You not a party person?” 

“I rather like parties when I know I’m going to be attending them. You failed to mention this when I left this morning.”

“Oh, well there’s nothing wrong with a surprise party now and again! Anyway, this is hardly a true party compared with the ones thrown at Stark’s place. I think Sam is gathering tips and tricks from him and may be throwing wild ones himself one of these days. I mean someone will have to replace Stark, he’s getting too old for it.” Valkyrie grabbed a grape from the tray Gamora was holding on her lap and she tossed it into her mouth with a chuckle. 

“Stark?” Loki questioned. Valkyrie laughed, pointing to one of the men playing cards. He certainly didn’t look old to Loki, but he supposed he was probably a good ten years older than anyone else in the room. He didn’t have a slave and had strategically placed himself far from the man at the table who did have a slave. Stark caught Loki staring and gave him a look which made Loki clear his throat and quickly look back to Valkyrie with a sharp nod.

“He’s a lawyer,” Valkyrie went on, plucking a few more grapes from the golden tray. “I think his father had something to do with the government, but it’s all hush hush. He knows way too much about laws and loopholes and crime… You wouldn’t believe the jams he can get people into and out of. He can sense a lie from a mile away, probably because he does it so much himself.”

“I see.” Loki nodded once, making a mental promise to himself to avoid Stark at all costs. The one thing he didn’t need was for someone with expert lie detection to start sniffing into Loki’s past and the disappearance of the body of his slave. 

He spent another moment observing the party, and after taking it all in he questioned, “Does Stark not like slaves? He seems old enough to have at least one, but there’s none with him now.”

“Oh, he has several,” Valkyrie shrugged. “They’re all inherited from his father I think. No one ever sees them, really. I think they’re all labor slaves now. He and Strange, they’re… odd. They've been keeping to themselves more and more.”

She noticed something behind him and laughed. Loki turned to watchas the men at the table groaned as Stark laid down his hand, smirking. A pile of money was shoved toward him as the person next to him gave him a pat on the back. Someone else started setting up the game again, but Stark tucked his money away, standing. He spoke softly to Strange, who nodded in Loki’s direction, and Loki felt himself swallow once before he quickly stood, dusting himself off.

“You know, while this has all been very interesting, I did buy a slave and a house today so I’d best prepare myself for moving,” Loki explained quickly with a slightly chuckle. “I need to get some rest.”

“You bought a slave?” Valkyrie's jaw dropped, catching his coat and pulling him back. “And you came of age what, yesterday? You move fast.”

“He was entertaining, and I didn’t want my chance to slip away.” Loki replied, curling his lip back when he saw Sam and Quill doing something that he’d truly prefer not to witness. Forcing a charming smile on his face, he bowed slightly and added, “I do enjoy parties, and I hope to attend more. Tonight is simply not ideal for me. But please, let me know of those hosted in the future, I would be delighted to attend.”

He thought he heard Gamora murmur something under her breath, and his eyes narrowed, but he simply clenched his jaw and gave another half bow before pulling away. He’d made it halfway to the door when he was stopped by Stark, who stopped Loki with an upturned hand, forcing Loki to stop before he ran into him. The grin on his face was altogether much too proud, and it set Loki’s teeth on edge. Loki was about to command the man to move when Stark chuckled and spoke.

“You’re Loki, Thor’s little brother, right?” He smirked, taking a sip from his glass of gin. Loki clenched his jaw, less than enthused that Stark caught him before he could escape to his room, but he summoned his best smile. 

“I am Loki Odinson,” He confirmed, forcing his posture to remain relaxed. “And you’re Stark, I’m told?”

“No need to be so formal, Tony will do. Pity about your father, you know. Thor reached out, told me what had happened. Terrible that a slave could be so reckless, huh? And then you had to put him down before Thor even got home…”

Loki’s eyes narrowed. His brother had never mentioned this man before, and Loki suddenly grew suspicious of why Thor would have bothered reaching out to a lawyer. It made Loki uneasy, and he sharply replied, “Indeed, it was a very difficult night. I’d prefer not to talk about it.”

“Oh yeah, I understand. I don’t know if I’d do it myself, really. It’s messy, isn’t it? Nicer to have someone else clean up the mess. But you managed all on your own! Thor told me that you were very thorough. Not a mess of your slave to be seen by anyone, not even the other slaves!”

For a moment, Loki felt himself panic. Why would Stark question him now after so much time had passed? How could he know any of this? Had Thor investigated Ian’s disappearance? Why would he? Ian had been just a slave. Slaves were killed by masters all the time, so why would it matter to Thor? Had Skurge let something slip that made Thor suspicious? Loki was very good at gaining control of his emotion, though, and he simply chuckled darkly.

“Father taught me to be functional and dependent on myself, only. I wouldn’t trust such a task to anyone else. In fact, it was foolish of him to rely on a slave to administer his medicine. I would not make such a mistake. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get to bed. It would seem that, unlike the rest of you, I have work to do in the morning and I need a good night’s sleep,” Loki snapped sharply, pulling away from Tony who was entirely too close.

“Yeah, well good luck with that! I think it’s time we turn on some music! Wilson, hand me that remote will you?”

Loki’s jaw clenched as the people around them cheered when Tony switched on something loud and obnoxious with lots of drums and screeching guitars. As people around the room hopped up and began to dance, Tony winked at Loki. In a voice that was all too knowing, he murmured, “Good luck with your beauty sleep, Odinson.”

With that, he turned away and let out a whoop as he began to dance with the others, leaving Loki to stand there staring for a long moment. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest, but he forced himself to relax as he swept from the room. As he made his way upstairs, Loki rubbed at his left arm and found himself feeling something between guilt and fear. Surely Stark couldn’t know anything. There was no possible way for him to guess at what could have happened. Still, Loki was suddenly reminded that he held a secret that would incriminate him for the rest of his life. There was no possible way for anyone to know who he was or what he had done, but that didn’t keep shivers from crawling up his neck. 

It was simply a role, he told himself as he slipped into his room. He’d always been an excellent liar, an excellent actor, and this was a part he would play so well that he might fool himself into believing that he was born equal to all of the masters down in the parlor. Ian was gone, and there seemed no possible way for anyone to know what had truly happened. 

Loki promised himself then that he would do whatever it took to keep his secrets hidden, no matter the cost. He remembered what Ian had told him about the slaves, about how they thought and acted when no one of importance was in the room. Loki knew he could use that information to manipulate things as needed. He didn’t simply understand how to be a master, he understood how the slaves thought, and by pulling all the pieces together Loki was sure that he would not only keep his secrets hidden, he would rise high and became great in this city. Stark was falling, Valkyrie had said so herself, and though perhaps Sam would replace him for a while, Loki felt confident that if he played his cards right, he could one day be as great as the man his father had once promised him he could be. The people downstairs were born into luxury, and though Loki had once though such a life would come to him easily, he now knew he’d have to work hard for such glory, and work hard he would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this story! This is as far as I plan to write for now, but I had a lot of fun with it, and with developing Loki as a character in this AU.


End file.
